Offhand Offerings

SOMEBODY'S GETTIN' OLD

2009-04-30T09:35:00.000-07:00

...and it ain't me!

Nineteen years ago today God blessed our family with a daughter, Taylor Grace. Where have the years gone?

Beginning on her first birthday, Taylie's dad has given her a dozen roses every year on her special day. Even though she is away at college this year, he wanted to continue the tradition. After a little consideration, I thought I would enlist the help of Kimmie, who is the Recruitment Manager and Head Volleyball Coach at Crown College where Taylie atttends. I called her to ask if she could give me the number of a local florist and some idea of when best to have the roses delivered.

Kimmie, bless her heart, enthusiastically offered to take care of purchasing and personally delivering the roses to Taylie as a surprise. She even went so far as to take a photo of Tay with the flowers and email it to us...as evidenced in the picture above. Taylie worked closely with Kimmie this year as the volleyball team manager and Kimmie shared with me how much she appreciated our daughter's help and her encouraging rapport with the team. I was very touched by her gracious words and help in carrying on this special tradition.

Happy blessed birthday to you today, "Gracie"....you have, indeed, been an undeserved gift to us from God.

GIFTS I NEVER ASKED FOR

2009-04-23T14:19:00.000-07:00

This morning I was in town running errands and picked up an old Indian walking down the road. He also happens to be an old friend. I gave him a ride to his home and he invited me in for a cup of tea. A very delicious cup of tea...something from South Africa. When I asked where he'd gotten it he replied, "I'm a man of the world, you know." We sat on the back steps, sipping tea, catching up on each other's kids, and reminiscing. When I left, he gifted me with 3 bottles of this year's maple syrup and a new pair of moccasins.

As I drove home I thought of the unexpected gifts a day can bring. A visit with an old friend, precious pure maple syrup...new moccasins. I hadn't asked for any of those things, but they were bestowed upon me. In my opinion, these are the best kind of gifts.

My thoughts turned to how God knows what we need and He gives...whether we ask Him or not. Even whether we love Him or not. So many things we take for granted...the air we breathe...the power that enables us to move, function, work, and play. Many un-asked-for faculties...a brain that can reason; sensory perceptions with which to see, hear, smell, feel; and a heart that steadily moves my lifeblood throughout my body.

Most of the many gifts and blessings God has given me I never asked for...His Word so I might know Him, His Spirit which renews my mind and strengthens my heart to obey Him, His Son to take the penalty of my sin that I might have eternal life in Him, and free will to choose. I didn't ask for these things, yet He gave them to me. "Every good and perfect gift is from above and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no shadow of turning." James 1:17 NKJV

Thank you, Father God, for so much.

THE AFGHAN OPEN

2009-04-17T06:26:00.000-07:00

"Specialist Ramsey Haynes is in the lead at three under par in the First Annual Afghan Open as he tees off on hole seven, a wicked 475 yard fairway with a monstrous sand trap."

Just thought I'd share this picture with you all...it made me smile. Until, that is, I talked to Ramsey on the phone this morning and he told me he was hitting the ball over the perimeter wall trying to set off land mines in a mine field on the other side. Sheesh.

CABIN FEVER

2009-03-27T08:15:00.000-07:00

March can seem like the longest month of the year, can't it? Everyone can get a little testy, even our feathered friends at the feeder. We're ready to be done with winter and get on with spring weather activities, but this month delights in being fickle...sunshine and temps in the upper 40s to low 50s for three days and then it plummets back down into the 20s and 30s with freezing rain and snow. I saw on the news this morning that the areas of Texas, Kansas, Oklahoma and others are bracing themselves for one to two feet of snow in the next 24 hours! In my neck of the woods we'd take that with a begrudging sigh, but it's got to come as a rude shock to folks in those parts of the country.

Currently, I am on spring break with no plans to head south to a sunny beach somewhere. Instead my goal is to head deep into the dusty netherworld of my long neglected bedroom for a major makeover. First, a good old-fashioned pitch and toss, looking at everything with a critical eye and realistic expectation: "am I ever going to wear this or use this?", and organize what's left. Second, eliminate some of the furniture to free up some floor space, bring in the industrial-strength shop vac and banish all the dust bunnies, dust puppies, dust ponies, and dust rhinos.

Then the fun part begins: Down to the home supply store to purchase paint and back home to apply it. A trip to the fabric store to choose a coordinating fabric to sew curtains or perhaps just valances for the windows.

For the finishing touch: lay down the beautiful hooked wool rug and make up our bed with the wonderful new linens my girlfriends helped me pick out on our recent road trip to the Twin Cities. It's going to be quite a transformation. I will post an "after" picture but don't think for one minute you'll see the "before" shot!

BECAUSE THEY NEEDED THE BEST

2009-02-15T11:45:00.000-08:00

...they sent the 951st Engineer Battalion Sapper Company

out of Rhinelander/Tomahawk, Wisconsin.

Thank you to Stephanie Aimone for these photos.

MAY I BRAG A LITTLE?

2009-02-03T15:13:00.000-08:00

So I am going to use this forum to brag a little about my eldest son. Against my better judgment, I was online chatting with him on Facebook from 12:30 to 2:30 AM last night...or this morning...whatever.

Ramsey was sitting in a tent some place, not Afghanistan, waiting for the go-ahead to make the last leg of the flight to FOB Lagman, the base where he'll spend the next ten months. He sent me a photo attached to an email of him qualifying on the M4, a type of machine gun. It's kind of weird looking at a photo of your son in full battle gear intently firing a machine gun.

I asked him about the photo; what he was doing, who the other people in it were. He said it was taken on a shooting range at Camp Shelby, MS, where he was shooting targets while walking. Ramsey is the lead soldier on the right. The soldier directly behind him is an instructor. For those of you who have any experience shooting a firearm, it's difficult enough to hit a target when you are stationary, much less on the move. Ramsey qualified as an Expert on four weapons: the M4, M9, .50 caliber, and the M-240. Expert is the highest weapons qualification. It may come as a surprise to those of you who know Ramsey, and are aware of his reputation as a hunter, that this is the first time he has qualified as an Expert . Apparently, this is not an easy accomplishment.

Ramsey is a member of the 951st Combat Engineer Sapper Company, whose job it will be to provide route clearance...locating, disarming, and disposing of Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs), aka roadside bombs. In addition to his training to carry out this duty, Ramsey will also man the .50 caliber machine gun mounted on top of a vehicle, and perform emergency life saving medical tasks, like controlling bleeding and starting I.V.'s., as a trained Combat Lifesaver.

While it is very difficult to think about what our son may experience in the coming months in Afghanistan, I am very proud of him and his willingness to serve our country. I am proud of his accomplishments and abilities gained during his years of training in preparation for this assignment. I am thankful for the gifts God has given Ramsey and His Hand upon him shaping him into the young man he has become.

TESTING

2009-02-01T20:55:00.000-08:00

Ok, so when I published my last post earlier today my blog spot was lost to me...all that was left was a big blue screen with about three lines of encrypted gobbledygook at the top. I tried finding it everywhich way with no luck. I called Cheri and she was able to view it from her computer. Hmmm. So I'm checking to see if it is restored after I publish another post. If not....I don't know what's up. Keeping my fingers crossed.

RED-EYE TO AFGHANISTAN

2009-02-01T12:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Ramsey and the rest of the 951st Engineer Sapper Co. out of Rhinelander/Tomahawk, WI, boarded a plane at Camp Shelby, MS, for the first leg of their long journey to Afghanistan. Ramsey called us from somewhere in Maine after a 3 1/2 hour flight. Maine? I admit I know nothing about flight patterns, but doesn't flying from way down south 50 miles from the Gulf of Mexico all the way to the northernmost state of the Union seem a little out of the way? Is Afghanistan at the same latitude as Maine? Here's where my geography prowess fails me. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the next stop is Germany. Then Romania. (Romania? Do we have air bases in Romania?) And finally, Afghanistan.

All this to say, Ramsey is on his way to a dangerous part of the world to do a dangerous job. I don't know where he is right now, how long it takes to get there, or when he'll arrive at his final destination. All I do know is I have put him in God's hands and "I know whom I have believed and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day." 2 Timothy 1:12

POTATO PIZZA

2009-01-24T12:27:00.000-08:00

A couple of you have expressed interest in Potato Pizza, a family favorite. I don't really have a recipe; it's one of those "as you would" kind of things. Anyway, here's how I do it:

Use two large pre-baked pizza crusts. I either make my homemade yeast pizza crust and bake till just starting to brown or, if I'm looking for something quicker, I buy Mama Mary brand pre-baked crusts. I know there are other brands, but haven't tried them.

Peel and boil six large potatoes. Cook one pound of bacon and break into about 1/2 to l inch pieces. Chop one meduim onion. Grate one pound of mozzarella cheese.

Spread crusts with sour cream, not too thick...about one half cup per crust.

Slice potatoes evenly on the crusts to cover all but very edge. This layer of potatoes will be more than one slice deep. Salt and pepper to taste.

Divide first the onion between the two pizzas, distributing evenly, then do the same with the bacon pieces, followed by the cheese.

Bake in preheated 400 degree oven until cheese is melting and beginning to brown, about 12 - 14 minutes. I bake one pizza at a time because they don't take long and that way the second one is still hot when served.

You can tweak any and all of the ingredients to your preference...more or less sour cream or bacon, leave off the onions...whatever. Obviously, this is a high calorie and fat pizza but I have taken to using fat free or low fat cheese and sour cream and it's just as good. We have added other toppings at times...some were good, some not. Whatever you would like on a baked potato is best. Remember, it's not a tomato sauce pizza so nix the mushrooms and oregano. I would love to hear from any of you who come up with your own variations. Enjoy!

PS - this pizza is great left over

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

2009-01-20T09:23:00.000-08:00

Just when I've made my re-entry into blogging I am forced to retire temporarily (only a matter of days this time; not years) as my computer has to go to the doctor for routine maintainence.

Think of everything I'll get done around the house without the computer luring me away!

SO SOON, WRITERS' BLOCK

2009-01-17T16:28:00.000-08:00

You'll have to bear with me; there's a lot swirling around in my head these days but little of it alights long enough to be formulated into anything remotely blog-worthy.

I could bore you with the mundane details of my week:

Sunday: Sang on the worship team during the morning's worship service, celebrated Tessa's 16th birthday with my folks, played cards at friends while the kids had Sr. High Bible Study.

Monday: Went to visit and provide care for friend, Florence, in her home; made potato pizza and a strawberry-rhubarb pie for Tessa's birthday dinner while enjoying the company of future daughter-in-love, Mandy, and future official grandson, Damon. Celebrated Tess's birthday again, then went to church for Bible Study.

Tuesday: Mandy called at 8:30 and asked if we wanted to go swimming. Swimming! It's 8:30 AM and -35 degrees out. At the local pool, silly. Sure...why not. In the afternoon, did aforementioned favor for Ramsey and delivered roses to Mandy at work.

Wednesday: Pretty much just did school with Tess and Wy and housework. Woohoo. Mandy and Damon came over.

Thursday: Are you bored yet? I am. School, laundry, zzzzzzzzz ........

Friday: Back to visit and care for Florence. Cards and pizza at the home of Pastor Joe and Sue.

Saturday: Family Council meeting at local nursing home where my grandmother is a resident, worship team practice, errands in town, home to knit...hopefully.

There you have it. They say sometimes you just have to put your time in to get past writers' block. I've done my time...hopefully I'm rehabilitated.

SUPPORT OUR TROOPS

2009-01-14T17:58:00.000-08:00

People ask us if we ever hear from Ramsey who is currently stationed at Camp Shelby, MS. My reply is, "Not often and usually when he needs a favor."

"Hi Mom, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, what's that?"

"Can you go to Griders and buy a dozen red roses for Mandy and take them to her at work?"

"...Sure..." (why not?) "What do you want the card to say?"

"Just because I love you."

That's how I found myself driving into town, buying red roses, driving to the next town, delivering said roses to my future daughter-in-love, and driving back home...on a day when I had no plans to leave the house.

Funny what we do for love.

OK, SO WHERE WAS I...

2009-01-12T06:47:00.000-08:00

...Oh, yeah! Now I remember. April 8th, 2006. Mark and Ramsey were heading to Tennessee to hunt turkeys. That was almost three years ago. I feel like Rip Van Winkle. Quite a lot has happened since then:

We've all gotten older. Big surprise to ya'll, I know.

I enrolled in college for the first time. Part time associate degree RN program at the area technical college. This spring semester I will complete the required courses to be licensed as a Practical Nurse. How practical is that?

Ramsey is deployed with the 951st Engineer Battalion out of Rhinelander/Tomahawk. He is currently at Camp Shelby, MS, and will leave for Afghanistan later this month. More on that later.

Taylie began her freshman year of college at Crown College in Minnesota. She is pursuing a BS in Elementary Education. She looks forward to spending Spring Break on a mission trip with the Crown women's volleyball team in the Dominican Republic.

Tessa turns 16 (!!) TODAY. She has grown into a lovely young woman with many gifts and a tender servant's heart. She loves to cook, bake, make jewelry, and watch movies. She spoils me with her willingness to help in the kitchen and around the house in general.

Wylie has shot up, relatively speaking, to be the tallest in our family at a whopping 5'8" and he'll turn 15 next month. A man of varied interests, he loves to duck hunt, turkey hunt, ice fish, read, draw realistic pictures of semi trucks, and avoid doing schoolwork. Wylie also has the opportunity to go on a short-term mission trip next month to Budapest, Hungary, with a group from church.

Mark left Viking Builders in April of 2007 to go on his own doing carpentry and guiding. It has been an interesting time with the economic downturn, but God has provided in amazing ways and we are growing in our walk with Him.

Well, that's it in a nutshell...I s'pose I can expound on some of this in future posts. For anyone who might happen to have been left hanging three years ago, wondering about the results of the Tennessee turkey hunt: Mark and Ramsey each bagged a bird.

AND THEY'RE OFF! ...AGAIN

2006-04-08T08:14:00.000-07:00

Mark and Ramsey left this morning bound for Tennessee (seems to be the place to go these days). This time it's a spring turkey hunt with friends, Tom and Bill. They will have a great time whether they bag any birds or not. This is Bill's first time hunting turkeys and he has been pumped! He attended seminars, watched videos, and bought everything Cabela's had to offer remotely related to turkey hunting. He was all packed a week ago. (Mark and Ramsey packed last night and early this morning). His wife, Mary, was offering the guys $100 if they'd
get "Cabela Bill" and all his gear out of her house a week early and keep him in Tennessee a week longer.

So it's me and the Three Amigos holding down the fort for the next week. They're all sick, in various stages of some virus that just won't leave us alone. Taylie is pretty much over it, but still has a loose cough. Tess is running a low-grade fever this morning and Wylie is hacking, snorting, and spitting. Enough said.

CHERI AND LO GOIN' CAMPIN' !

2006-04-07T11:05:00.000-07:00

The "Tater Twins" are packed and off on another excellent adventure!

I found this photo on a fellow blogger's site and it cracked me up. Thanks to the Ramblin' Hillbilly. And thanks to Taylie for her ability to figure out for me how to upload this image to my blog. Her comment upon reading the title of this post was: "With just potatoes?" My response: "I'm sure there's a little chocolate in there somewhere."

APRIL FOOL'S DAY

2006-04-01T09:13:00.000-08:00

I originally was planning to pull off an April Fool's Day prank in my blog but, upon reconsidering, decided doing anything on the internet could get out of hand in a big way. Look how crazy things got in 1957 when the BBC news program Panorama announced that, thanks to a mild winter and elimination of the dreaded spaghetti weevil, Swiss farmers were enjoying a bumper harvest of spaghetti. They accompanied this story with pictures of Swiss peasant farmers pulling strands of spaghetti down from trees. Hundreds of viewers were duped and called in wanting to know how they could grow their own spaghetti trees. It took some time, but the show's highly respected anchor, Richard Dimbleby, was eventually forgiven by his viewers.

So, in lieu of stirring up some world-wide chaos, I thought I would instead share the tale of my favorite April Fool's Day prank I managed to pull off. April Fool's Day was a big deal to my father and he enjoyed a lot of success in tormenting his wife and young daughters. By the time I was around fourteen I decided it was time to fight back. After much thought, I hit upon a plan. My dad chewed tobacco; the leaf type that came in a pouch. I replaced the tobacco with some nice fresh, moist horse poo. As we all know, the first Tuesday in April is an election day and my dad happened to be running for Town Supervisor. The first of April that year was a day or two before the election. Dad was quite keyed up and prone to expounding on the issues to his captive audience at home. As he worked himself into a froth, he pulled out his pouch and proceeded to pinch a good-sized wad of "chew" and was waving it about as he drove his point home. I had let my mum and sisters in on the prank and we all sat entranced by that chunk of "poo chew" as Dad would bring it in close to his mouth for the deposit but then pull it away, as he wasn't quite ready to pause in his tirade. Suddenly, the enormity of what I had done washed over me in a sickening wave, but I was frozen in a state of fascinated horror when Dad finally arrived at some type of ending punctuation and opened wide to tuck the wad in place. Thanks to God's marvelous design, the nose is placed strategically above the mouth and Dad caught a whiff of what he was about to put therein. He exploded with an emphatic oath, or two or three, as he examined the offending "chew" at arm's length. Mom and sisters, Tara and Nan, sat mute while I offered a weak, "April Fool's". Dad looked at me in surprise and then, much to our relief, burst out laughing. *Whew* To this day, Dad acknowledges, "That was a good one!"

The next year I tried to top that one by sewing the fly shut on his boxers and he nearly wet himself in the men's room of the law office he worked in before discovering my duplicity.

Happy April Fool's Day!

FEBRUARY FLIGHT PLAN

2006-02-22T06:54:00.000-08:00

The month of February has flown by and brought to our home the feeling of an airport terminal. Rucksacks, duffel bags, and carry-ons crowd floor space; misty-eyed hugs goodbye and joyful bear-hug reunions.

Son Ramsey left on the 2nd of February for 2+ weeks of IRT (Innovative Readiness Training in Army lingo) down in Yuma, Arizona. Task Force Diamondback is the building of the border fence (more like a wall) on the Arizona/Mexico border. Ramsey spent his 12-hour shifts welding together steel panels that make up the 18.5' x 9' sections of the fence.

He came back to us Saturday, the 18th, tanned, peeling, and freezing. Two weeks in the desert was enough to thin his blood -- 'course, the fact that it was -25* with windchill ten degrees colder didn't help. Ramsey wasn't the only one shivering around here!

While he was gone, his dad left on the 17th to fly to New Orleans a part of a short-term missions group sent by our church to help victims of Katrina. Mark and the rest of the group will be there for eight days, returning home in the wee morning hours on the 26th. The group is spending their days mucking out houses; tearing out rotten, molded wood, drywall, carpet, etc.; re-roofing; and cleaning up all the debris in people's yards.

We tend to think of floods as water. Not so. We are talking sludge, folks. Nasty, black, and stinking. Seven months after Katrina, the devastation is still mind boggling. The mission team has set up a blog site, complete with photos: http://conovermissions.blog.com Check it out. Seeing this kind of suffering sure puts our own problems in perspective.

We are thankful Mark was still able to go on this trip after separating his shoulder in a snowmobile accident last month. God has been so good. I was somewhat dismayed though, to learn Mark is roofing down there. (see Wednesday's photos on missions blog -- white T-shirt & camo hat, for readers who wouldn't recognize him). He's supposed to be doing something like supervising or running a Bobcat. But that's typical of Mark -- expects no special treatment; gonna do whatever needs to be done. We're praying daily for the team's safety, health, rest, and opportunities to share the love of Christ with people they come in contact with.

So anyway, it's been kind of different for our household with all the coming and going. Mark and Ramsey will not have seen each other for almost a month by the time Mark gets back from Louisiana. I am looking forward to having both my guys back home and underfoot again.

"SHOULDER BONE CONNECTED TO THE..."

2006-02-08T11:12:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to blog for quite some time but, circumstances being what they are, I just have not found the right time. Ideally, time without interruption is best for me to write and there has been scarce little of that lately. Let me briefly explain:

January 19th, my husband, Mark, was injured in a snowmobile accident. He wasn't going fast or doing anything foolish...it was a freak thing. He was turning off the road into a driveway and the carbide on the bottom of a ski caught as he hit the brake to swing the rear of the machine, flipping the sled and throwing Mark off. He landed on the hard, icy road taking the full impact on his left shoulder and suffering a 3rd degree AC shoulder separation. In layman's terms, he tore all the ligaments holding the main shoulder bones in place -- the collarbone was shoved up and displaced by the top of the humerous being driven up into the shoulder socket. If this had happened in soft snow he wouldn't have been injured, but he hit hard on the ice and that did it.

We saw two orthopedic specialists. Neither recommended surgery and that was alright with us. Mark began physical therapy last week, is doing pretty well, but is unable to work. Being that the accident was not work-related, there was no workmans' compensation. His employer has subsequently laid him off, as they have no work he is able to do in his present condition. So we are collecting unemployment. It is about half of what he used to bring home, but we are thankful to have something steady to work with...I like a challenge.

Good thing I do, because there have been more challenges in this than just the financial aspect. It is a challenge to not worry, to be patient with a man sitting on the couch in pain and micro-managing my every move, to not get my feelings hurt when he doesn't listen to my advice or admonitions, to help our kids deal with their feelings of stress and anxiety, to find time for myself to be refreshed and renewed...to remember that our names are written on the palms of God's hands.

Through it all we have been amazed at how God is working in our lives: growing us in our faith, giving us opportunities to see His provision for our family, and proving His faithfulness. God is good -- ALL THE TIME.

DOG POOP AND COFFEE

2006-01-13T05:39:00.000-08:00

Hah! Couldn't just walk away from a title like that, could ya?

Ever get the feeling early on in a day that this might be one of those days when you should just scrap it and go back to bed 'til tomorrow? I'm getting that vibe this morning.

I woke up before six to find dog poop tracked on every other stair going down to the basement. Lovely. The kids had been playing in the woods (which is where our dog does her business) last night after dark and someone must have stepped in a pile and unknowingly tracked it in. 'Course, beats me how they "unknowingly" walked past the stuff on the way back up the stairs.

Cleaning up dog poop before I've had my morning cup of joe is not my idea of a stellar start to the day, but nevertheless, I grabbed the spray bottle of Resolve, firmed up my inner resolve (and my innards), and sprayed and scrubbed my way from top to bottom. Done with that, coffee's ready.

Poured a cup of steaming coffee and headed back downstairs to the computer to check emails and blogs. Slipped on the second from the top step and me and joe were airborne! I have not fallen down the stairs in years...I've slipped, tripped, stumbled, and had some close calls. This was the real deal. Luckily, I kept my grip on the handrail but that was all. In a shower of coffee, I came down hard, smashing my right hip and a couple lower ribs. Ow.

If you ever want to really get your childrens' attention, this works like no other thing.

After applying a cold pack to the purpling grapefruit-sized bruise on my hip, cleaning the stairs (for the second time before 7AM) and walls, and taking a traditional shower, I am now considering renting a carpet cleaner...and watching where I step.

ANOTHER TEEN

2006-01-12T05:50:00.000-08:00

Unbelievable, the way time passes...

Today is our youngest daughter's thirteenth birthday. Tessa Rose with the button nose. It's her birthday, but what a gift from God she is to us. Beautiful, talented, ardent in likes and dislikes, thoughtful and sensitive, helpful and servant-hearted. Her rippling, musical laugh delights my soul; her round, blue eyes spilling over with tears breaks my heart. Caught in the riptide of passage between childhood and young womanhood, she dances and stumbles.

I don't even remember my thirteenth birthday, but I do remember the ups, downs, and lost-somewhere-in-betweens of the age. Observing one's daughter travel that road brings back some of the feelings...my job now is to discern when to catch her and when to let her fall.

I saw a sign that said, "Raising teenagers is kind of like nailing Jello to a tree." My interpretation: It's a sweet challenge requiring patience and ingenuity and grace.

Last August, Taylie and Tessa and I were out picking wild blueberries. As we walked back to the car, I was flanked by the girls who each carried a full bucket in one hand and held my hands with the other. The late afternoon sun cast our shadows before us and the image smote my heart. I marveled at what God has done: given me two beautiful daughters who want to be with me, talk with me, learn from me, and teach me of themselves. How blessed I am!

STOP THE RIDE! I WANNA GET OFF!

2006-01-09T09:25:00.000-08:00

Life around here has not slowed down much after the holidays. Every day on the calendar since the first of the year has had at least one thing written on it: Bible study Monday evening, Tuesday AM I ran over to the house I clean at to change bedding and get the laundry going, then at 1:00 attended the funeral of a friend, Wednesday AM finished cleaning the vacation house before guests arrived at noon, then off to church to help Mary prepare and serve the monthly Family Nite Dinner. Thursday we made a WalMart run to stock up and give the kids a chance to use their giftcards. Friday morning back over to the vacation house to get started changing bedding again, cleaning bathrooms, kitchen, vacuuming, etc., between those guests leaving and the next arriving at 4:00 PM. The cleaning was interrupted midday by having to run Taylie down to the high school in Eagle River to get on the bus taking all the youth group kids to Green Bay for our church's District Youth Conference. Then dropped Tessa and Wylie off at piano lessons, ran and grocery shopped while they were there, picked them up, zoomed back to the vacation house to finish cleaning before 4:00. Went in the ditch at 5:00 (haven't done THAT in 20 years -- maybe more about that in next blog), yanked out of the ditch by 5:30, threw together a very nice salad (if I do say so myself) to take over to friends' house for pizza and cards at 6:00 (we were a half hour late due to aforementioned vehicular incident). Up next morning (Saturday, if you're keeping track), threw pot roast in slow cooker and off to work at the Tackle Box at 9:00 -- not my usual thing but the regular employees happen to be my kids -- Taylie, as I said, was gone to Green Bay for Districts, and Ramsey had National Guard duty for the weekend. Tackle Box owner and employer, Karen, was scraping the bottom of the Haynes barrel and came up with Mom. Worked from 9:-4:30 PM, got home, made mashed potatoes to go with pot roast, canceled card night scheduled for that night at other friends' due to exhaustion and the fact that I still had to make a birthday cake for Tessa. Church Sunday morning, then over to my folks for an early birthday celebration. Home at 9:00 PM. Very relieved to find a message on the answering maching saying Senior High girls' 7AM devotions and Junior High 3PM Bible study were canceled for Monday. Whew...

I don't know about you but I'm getting too old for this pace!

HOPE

2006-01-05T11:01:00.000-08:00

So, okay, after gentle nudges from friends, I'm back with my first blog of the new year. Things got hectic right before Christmas and I didn't feel I had time to spend on the computer. Then there was the ongoing string of bad news...the deaths of two friends, a diagnosis of cancer in another friend, the brain injury of our pastor's daughter, my brother-in-law's lost job due to the closing of the Rubbermaid plant in Madison, two dear ladies in different hospitals right now undergoing tests to determine the cause of mysterious maladies, a young friend, and mom, facing the prospect of heart surgery for her six year old son...the list goes on.

I hurt for my mother as she travels the road of her mother's decline into senile dementia...will that be her and I someday?

I held onto hope and prayed fervently for the trapped WV coal miners and their families. My heart broke with the news of their loss. Unimaginable.

When it starts piling up this deep I tend to withdraw. And, as they say, "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all". Hence, the real reason for my absence from the blogging world.

I am so thankful that, as I withdraw from the pain of the world, I walk through each day in the presence and comfort of the Lord God. I just finished reading the Book of Lamentations which poignantly shares the overwhelming sense of loss that accompanied the destruction of the city of Jerusalem and exile of her people around 586 B.C. The Lord ministered to my soul as I read verses 19 through 26 of the third chapter:

"I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great isYour faithfulness. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.' The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him, to the one who seeks Him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord."

I don't know how people get through this stuff without Him to run to, lean on, and cry out to. By His strength I am able to get up in the morning, take care of my family and home, and teach my children. Because His grace is sufficient for me, I am able to pray for, reach out to, and minister to those around me who are hurting or struggling.

As we bid goodbye and, in some cases, good riddance to a year seemingly filled with bad news, we look forward to, and wish one another, the best for the new year. Sometimes that is the case, but often it turns out to be more of the same...because we live in a fallen world we have troubles and sorrows. In John 16:33, Jesus matter-of-factly tells us to expect this, but gives us comfort and promise in His words:

"I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

So... as I take a deep breath and take the next step, I also take heart and encourage you to do so as well.

"Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer." Romans 12:12

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

Hope...hope for better times, hope for the future, hope for eternity:

"Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21:3-4

Praise to God for a Living Hope:

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In His great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade -- kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith -- of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire -- may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." 1 Peter 1:3-7

"He who testifies to these things says, 'Yes, I am coming soon.' Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God's people. Amen." Revelation 22:20-21

TESTING...AGAIN

2005-12-20T07:39:00.000-08:00

This is a test...I have been unable to view my blog. I can access it through my blogger dashboard but not by its address. Has anyone else had this problem or is it just my computer? I'm publishing this post to see if it shows up.

A CHRISTMAS STORY

2005-12-17T05:34:00.000-08:00

I received this in an email and thought it was good enough to share:

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town,
not a sign of Baby Jesus was anywhere to be found.

The people were all busy with Christmastime chores
like decorating and baking and shopping in stores.

No one sang "Away in a manger, no crib for a bed".
Instead, they sang of Santa dressed up in bright red.

Mama watched Martha Stewart, Papa took a short nap
as hour upon hour the presents they'd wrap.

When what from the TV did they suddenly hear?
But an ad...which told of a big sale at Sears.

So away to the mall they all flew like a flash...
buying things on credit and others with cash.

And as they made their way home from their trip to the mall,
did they think about Jesus? Oh no...not at all.

Their lives were so busy with their Christmastime things,
no time to remember Jesus, the King of all Kings.

There were presents to wrap and cookies to bake,
how could they stop and remember who died for their sake?

To pray to the Savior...they had no time to stop
because they needed more time to "shop 'til they dropped".

On WalMart! On K-Mart! On Target! On Penneys!
On Hallmark! On Zales! A quick lunch at Denny's!

From the big stores downtown to the stores at the mall
they would dash away, dash away, and visit them all!

And up on the roof there arose such a clatter
As grandpa hung icicle lights up on his brand new stepladder.

He hung lights that would flash, he hung lights that would twirl;
yet he never once prayed to Jesus...Light of the World.

Christ's eyes...how they twinkle! Christ's spirit...how merry!
Christ's love...how enormous! Our burdens He'll carry!

So instead of being busy, overworked, and uptight
let's put Christ back in Christmas and enjoy some good nights.

Merry Christmas, my friends.

COME THOU LONG EXPECTED JESUS

2005-12-15T07:44:00.000-08:00

Every December, for the past nineteen years, our family has anticipated the celebration of Jesus's birth by setting up our nativity scene in the center of a candle-ring graced with evergreen sprigs and lit by four candles; three of them purple, one pink. We light the first purple candle during supper on the first Sunday in Advent, followed by the second and third purple candles on the successive Sunday evenings. We light the pink candle the fourth Sunday as the Christ candle.

We also have a wall hanging we put up that pictures the background for the manger scene. Each night there is a figure to be put on the background, affixed there with Poster Tack. It begins with a small city of Bethlehem on the horizon followed by lambs, sheep, a cow, donkey, camels, shepherds, Wise Men, Mary, Joseph, a bright star, angels, and finally, the Baby Jesus. This Advent set came with a pamphlet that contains a scripture verse and prayer to be read for each figure.

We have been observing Advent this way since Ramsey's second Christmas and it is looked forward to every year. Except this year, Ramsey, who is going on twenty has complained that it is getting boring. We told him, "Tough. You loved this when you were growing up the same way your sisters and brother do. We look forward to continuing the tradition with our grandchildren." (We got an eyeroll on that one.) Funny thing is, Ramsey still wants to be the one to put up certain "favorite" pieces, ie., the star, the Gloria Angel, the shepherd boy, and, of course, the Baby in the manger. And, boy, if someone sticks one of the figures in the "wrong" spot he is quick to correct them. When we kid him about having the scene layout memorized from the picture on the front of the pamphlet he retorts grumpily, "Well, yeah, after all these years it's burned in my brain." That's a good thing.

And he's already staked his claim to putting up the final, crowning piece this year: the Baby Jesus.

WREATH ROUNDUP

2005-12-09T08:51:00.000-08:00

Well, it's that time of the year again. Yep, the holidays, Christmas and the New Year. All the preparation and planning. And, for our family, this includes making wreaths. For a few years now we've made them to give as gifts. I may be slightly prejudiced, but our wreaths are extraordinarily nice. We use a variety of native greens: double balsam is the mainstay with accent pieces of cedar, spruce, princess pine, and white pine. They are decorated with a burgundy or red velour bow, a few pine cones with their tips painted white, and clusters of red berries. Not too cluttered or gawdy. I would post a picture of one, but I don't have the ability (know-how & technology) to do that yet...maybe next year.

Which brings me to the next part of this post: Our gift wreaths have been well received and appreciated by friends and family; so well, that people have encouraged us to make them for sale. That hasn't been feasible until now. Our wreaths are made with a steel clamp-ring form. This requires using a clamp machine and in the past I've borrowed one from a friend. But I've had to wait until she was done making her wreaths and this often wasn't until right before Christmas...too late for me to make them for sale.

This year we invested in our own clamp machine, a case of 100 clamp-ring forms, a case of ribbon, six spools of florist wire, and a case each of red berries and white berries. To the tune of about $400 (gulp!). As with any business, there's always an initial start-up cost. We weren't able to make this investment until this month, which is really too late for any great sales promotion for this holiday season, but we are planning to launch it as a family business next year.

Making wreaths is a lot of work; starting with going out to harvest all the different evergreen boughs (which requires the purchase of a permit). Then clipping the the boughs to size, bundling four or five pieces of balsam with an accent piece, such as princess pine or cedar, placing it in the form and closing the clamps with the machine. Repeat that process thirteen more times for each wreath and trim any stray pieces to give a uniform appearance. Then comes decorating; the worst part is making the bow. I hate making bows! To get a nice bow, I use about nine feet of 2 5/8 inch wide ribbon and loop, twist, tie, and pray through gritted teeth. Sometimes they turn out...sometimes I start over. After I attach the ribbon to the wreath with florist wire, I wire on pine cones and berries. Voila! Takes about an hour from start to finish for one wreath, not counting cutting and clipping boughs and making the dreaded bow.

Ideally, one should harvest the boughs and other greens before we have much snow (it's ALOT of work digging princess pine out from under the snow...like Mark and I did this year), but if you get the boughs too early they dry out, turn brown, and needles fall like rain. So you have to watch the forecast to beat the weather, be in production by early to mid-November to have wreaths ready by deer season and Thanksgiving.

All of this takes place simultaneously with everything else that goes on in our family's life: homeschooling, work, church activities, chores, hunting, and holiday preparations...with a little sleep interspersed here and there! Thankfully, we have four kids who are willing to help make this possible and it didn't hurt to give them a little incentive...any money made from the sale of wreaths will go toward a family vacation.

We'll need one.

DOE, A DEER, A FEMALE DEER...

2005-11-28T19:39:00.000-08:00

Well, the Wisconsin regular gun season has closed for another year and it's time for the Buck Report. We have one buck to report. After seven days of the nine-day season passing, with Mark only seeing a couple does, he finally got his buck on Saturday morning. A really nice nine-point. We were all pretty happy, but none more so than Mark, as he'd been getting a little discouraged.

He'd gone out alone that morning, as Taylie wanted to sleep (those 5AM revelies were catching up to her) and Ramsey had to work. It was about 14* below zero (yup!) and Mark said by the time he walked in 400-500 yards he had to stop to catch his wind. Sucking in that cold air while trying to hurry to beat the sunrise was making him feel an asthma attack coming on. As he rested, he surveyed his surroundings in the filtered early morning light and couldn't believe his eyes when he saw, to his left, a picture-perfect buck at about 80 yards. It was standing facing away from him, but looking back over its shoulder at him. As Mark put his rifle up the deer turned its head to look at the doe it was following, giving him only the back of the neck to shoot at. And that's where he hit it, with the shot coming out the buck's cheek. He dropped in his tracks. Nice shot.

Then came the drag back out to the road (puff, puff). As he struggled to load that big guy in the back of the truck by himself a vehicle stuffed with Blaze Orange clad hunters went by honking and giving him the thumbs-up. Thanks, guys.

Taylie's first deer hunt was a bit of a disappointment to her as she never got an opportunity for a shot. But she learned a lot and had some quality time with her Dad. And there's always next year!

Ramsey hung two deer on the "buck pole"; both does, a smaller one taken during the regular season, and one really big doe taken today during the Blackpowder season. Yeah, he's not done yet. Blackpowder goes for ten days, Michigan gun season goes til the end of the month, and late bow season goes until the end of the year. With the six-point buck he took earlier this month during bow season his count is three and he has a few tags to fill yet. He's only slightly obsessed. We've nicknamed him Mini Ted "Whack 'em and Stack ''em" Nugent.

For those who may wonder at all this "slaughter", it is not just done for sport. It is the mainstay of our diet. I buy very little meat from the store; a little pork and chicken once in awhile for variety. We clean and butcher our deer ourselves. Mark de-bones it all, we wrap and freeze the tenderloins, steaks, and a few roasts. We grind a lot of the meat for burger and also make jerky and sausage. We always give my folks a completely processed (cut, wrapped, ground) deer for their Christmas present. None of it goes to waste. We are very thankful for God's provision.

Many people say they don't like venison but I'm convinced they tried meat that was not handled properly: if it hangs too long in warmer weather, if the tallow is not all removed, and if it's butchered with the bones in; all these can give venison that "gamey" taste that turns many people off. Our meat has no such taste. We've had people eat it, not knowing it was venison, and give sincere compliments specifically on the meat. They're shocked when they learn it's venison because they didn't know it could taste so good. And it is very healthy; very little fat and no cholestrol.

We've raised our family on venison, grouse, duck, and fish. The kids get to choose what they want for their birthday dinner and it's almost always venison or fish. Many years ago, when Ramsey was about a year and a half old, we were visiting one of my sisters over the holidays. My sister, Tara, prepared a wonderful pork roast with mashed potatoes, gravy, and all the extras. It was a delicious meal. I fixed a plate for little Ramsey and set it on the highchair tray in front of him. He looked at it and said, "Where's the venison?"

That's my boy.

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS

2005-11-24T04:30:00.000-08:00

What many regard as the first Thanksgiving took place in December 1621 as the religious Separatist Pilgrims held a three-day feast to celebrate God's provision and a bountiful harvest. The day did not become a national holiday until 1863 when President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the last Thursday of November a national day of thanksgiving. Later, the ever economy-minded President Franklin Roosevelt declared that Thanksgiving should always be on the fourth Thursday of the month to encourage holiday shopping; never on the occasional fifth Thursday.

I find counting my blessing and looking for things to be thankful for can really make a positive difference in my mood and outlook; not just today, but every day. God has so richly blessed me. Everything I have, everything I need, comes from Him.

MY TOP TEN THINGS TO BE THANKFUL FOR

1) Jesus Christ loved me and died for me before I loved Him.

2) God's grace is sufficient for me.

3) He promised He will never leave me nor forsake me.

4) His strength is made perfect in my weakness.

5) His mercies are new every morning.

6) He has given me a godly husband who loves me, is a good provider,

and a great dad.

7) He has given me four healthy, beautiful children.

8) My children all know Jesus as their Savior.

9) I have everything I need.

10) We enjoy good health.

Those are just the top ten; I could go on and on with big and little things. I hope you all can say the same. Let's make it a point to be thankful everyday; not just on this national holiday.

PARENTAL IDIOMS

2005-11-22T13:55:00.000-08:00

It can be rather dismaying to find yourself spouting forth nonsensical things to your children that your parents spouted at you. You wondered where they came up with these odd expressions and idioms. Now you are hearing them echoing down the ages out of your own mouth. Maybe it's genetic; maybe they got them from their parents.

Maybe not. I'm pretty sure my mother's exclamations of "Oskamalochy" and "Bulshevacky" were original to her. (Is it possible to misspell a non-word?) "Oskamalochy" was her primary expression of extreme alarm upon encountering any spider, snake, or putrefied potato. I've found it rather fitting on similar occasions. "Bulshevacky", I'm pretty sure, was her good Baptist upbringing way of not saying "bullshit". Dad used that term liberally enough for all of us. Personally, I've not found the substitute as safisfying as the real thing.

Most of us have heard the threat, "I'm going to knock you into next week!" But my dad took that one to another level with "I'm gonna hit you so hard you'll wear out rollin'!" or "I'll knock you so hard your kids'll be born dizzy!" I spent a fair amount of time as a youngster pondering that one. Now my kids do.

I'm sure Dad's "Take all you want, but eat all you take" and "Yours is not to question why; yours is but to do or die" came directly from his Marine boot camp experience. And he enforced them like any drill sergeant worth his salt would. I never needed any further clarification on those two and my kids have never asked for any either.

One of my dad's that I never got a handle on was, "This is going to hurt me worse than it hurts you." .....Really?! Eighteen lashes with a wooden spoon on the bare butt later. Thankfully, that's one I've never heard come out of my mouth. And though we did spank our children in their formative years when needed, it was one or two smacks on a clothed bottom.

And there's the dire consequences ones: "You're gonna fall and break your neck", "You're gonna slip and poke your eye out", "You're gonna get the bends and drown", "You're gonna inhale that and choke to death", and last, but not least..."You can drown in two inches of water, ya know!" Unbelievably, I heard that last one come out of my mouth not too long ago.

You know what they say..."The nut doesn't fall too far from the tree!"

TEST RUN

2005-11-20T19:24:00.000-08:00

Testing...testing...one, two, three...check, check, check...

(I'm not investing a whole lot of myself in this post)

BLOG RANT

2005-11-20T05:23:00.000-08:00

OK, so you would NOT believe the problems I suffered trying to publish yesterday's post! I began composing it at around 6AM and did not actually semi-successfully publish it until 7PM (with generous breaks to eat, get another cup of coffee, go to the bathroom, bang my head on the computer desk, and attend a friend's jewelry party).

First, about 3/4 of the way through composing, we had a power outage -- GONE! Power came back on minutes later and I started over only to have the power flick off for a few seconds -- GONE AGAIN!! AAARRGH!
Yes, I tried to save my work but was not able to.

After starting over for the THIRD time, typing quickly and not stopping to proofread, I finished and clicked the SAVE AS DRAFT button. Whereupon I received an Error Message: Your HTML cannot be accepted: Tag is broken Huh? I know nothing about Web page technicalities (for years I thought HTML was an abbreviation for Hotmail). I checked my saved drafts and, guess what? Not there!! 'Bout this time my mind is bordering dangerously close to a psychotic break.

I searched through my saved drafts and eventually found it but could only view it in HTML form. I saw typos needing correction and the spacing and font size was all messed up, but I was unable to change any of that. I went to the BlogSpot help sites, read all the current issues, and known problems. No help there. I emailed Blogger support and received a generic email listing topics that might help and found one that had a tutorial about HTML. This quick crash course gave me enough extremely limited understanding to go back and monkey around with a "tag" at the end of my post. This allowed me to finally be able to publish, but not correct errors. When I tried to edit the post I lost it for a while again in cyber neverland. When I finally tracked it down and got it published I had to just suffer the typos, improper spacing, and unwanted font size changes.

I'm telling ya, it was enough to make me give up blogging for good. Obviously, I haven't, but if this post gives me any guff I'm outta here!

MY BUCK STORY

2005-11-19T08:25:00.000-08:00
I don't blow the dust off this story too often, but watching my teenage daughter head out early this morning for her first Opening Morning deer hunt flashed me back 29 (!!) years. It goes like this:

The year was 1976 and I was a junior in high school. I had been out of town the two days before Opening Day with fellow thespians at the State Drama Competition. I don't remember the name of 3-act play, but I do remember I played a very pregnant, ditzy woman named Maizy and we won second place. We arrived home around midnight and my dad shagged me out of bed around 5 AM.

Dad had taken me down in the valley below our little farmstead earlier that week and had me shoot his .308 Remington Mohawk at the Ace of Spades he'd tacked to a tree about 30 yards away. He only gave me four rounds and I placed all four on the card with two rounds actually in the spade. "Good enough," he said.

It was COLD Opening Morning with about ten inches of snow on the ground. This was before the days of Blaze Orange so one wore something somewhat red. My get-up happened be a quilted, nylon jacket and pants that made an annoying whish when you moved. Dad hammered into my head what good ears deer have and that I had to be absolutely quiet. We headed out in our old Ford Falcon station wagon to what is known as the Haymeadow Creek area about five miles from our home. We drove in on an old logging road, left the car and walked in about a half mile where he left me sitting under a huge old spruce with branches that hung down to the ground forming a sort of tent. I sat on the hump the roots made and leaned against the trunk, completely screened from view. There was a deer trail passing right by this tree and I could see quite a ways in either direction on it. Dad told me I was not to leave my stand for any reason and he headed off into the woods.

It was crackling cold in the last moments of dark and early dawn. I was freezing within a half an hour. As the woods began to lighten with the coming day the squirrels started stomping around in the dry leaves under other trees. It's unbelievable how loud those little critters are. They kept me on edge as I was sure it was a deer heading my way. The chickadees were almost as bad. They would flit in among the branches of my spruce, perch and check me out with loud dee dee dees.

By 7AM my hands were buried deep in my pockets and I was feeling like a frozen turd. As I was wiggling my toes in my Sorels, trying to get some circulation going, I saw snow falling from some tag alders up alongside the trail. More squirrels or chickadees, I supposed. Suddenly, the alder branches were moving vigorously and then what appeared to be heavier branches pushed through the alders and, without a sound, an 8-point buck stepped out onto the trail. He looked left, right, left for traffic, just as his mama taught him, and then proceeded down the trail toward me and my tree. At this point my hands were in my pockets, the .308 across my knees, and all I could think of was the whish my jacket was going to make if I moved. So I didn't. I watched as the buck walked until he was alongside the spruce I was under and there he stopped. He seemed to sense something was there and he peered through the snow-ladened bows. Then, much to huge dismay, he pushed his antlers, head, and all but his hindquarters through the branches and into my space under the tree! I could have reached out and scratched him between the ears, he was that close. His head was lowered and he just looked me in the eye. I don't think I blinked and I don't know if I was even breathing. He was 'cuz his breath was curling from his nose.
INTERMISSION
(Ya'll can take a potty break 'cuz this saga's not done yet.)
I don't know how long we were like that, me looking at him looking at me with my hands in my pockets, rifle across my lap, and my mind a blank. Then he calmly backed out from under the spruce, flicked his tail once, and walked on down the trail. He did not run and did not seemed at all disturbed by our encounter. Only my eyes moved as I watched him disappear 40 or 50 yards down the trail until he hung a right around some small balsams. Then I suddenly unthawed, both body and mind. I can't believe that just happened...good thing there's tracks in the snow, 'cuz Dad would never believe this...I can't believe I didn't shoot...I just let him walk away! I turned around and knelt on the side of the root hump and looked in the direction the deer had disappeared. All of a sudden I saw him in an opening between the balsams. I quickly shouldered the rifle, put the crosshairs of the scope right behind his shoulder, took a breath, let it half out as I took up the slack on the trigger, held my breath and squeezed off the shot. Not being solidly positioned on that hump, the recoil knocked me off balance and I tipped back on my rump. I ejected the empty casing, put on the safety, dusted myself off, and sat back down on the hump to wait for my dad. Well, at least I can say I shot at the darn thing.
I didn't go look to see if I'd actually hit the deer because I really didn't think I had and, besides, Dad told me not to leave my stand for any reason.

About 20 minutes later, I could hear him whistling, "The infantry, the infantry, with the dirt behind their ears! The infantry, the infantry, could drink their weight in beers! The artillery and the calvary and all of them engineers could never lick the infantry in a hundred million years!" He'd heard my shot and asked what I'd seen. I told him what has happened and showed him the tracks. He told me to sit tight and he followed the trail of the deer. I was busy wondering if we were gonna get to go home for lunch when I heard him call, "Lo, you better get over here!" I trudged through the snow figuring I might have winged this deer and we were going to have to track him. I came around the balsams and there was Dad standing over the buck who had taken one leap and piled up in the snow. My shot had entered right where I'd aimed and come out the opposite shoulder passing right through the heart and lungs. He was dead before he ever hit the ground.
I was stunned. Dad was just grinning and shaking his head. I started to run around squealing and he told me to pipe down or I'd have ever hunter in Vilas County showing up. As he proceeded to show me how to gut it, the awful truth hit me like a ton of bricks. He trusted me and I shot him! To Dad's dismay, I began to cry.

"What the hell's that matter with you?"

"He trusted me and I SHOT him!"

Dad just looked at me like I'd gone loco. He had never shot a nice buck in all his years of hunting; though he'd always put meat on the table, if you get my drift.

I pulled myself together and we dragged that buck out to the Falcon, loaded him up and it wasn't until we ran into the first group of local hunters that I started to feel a little better. They were quite impressed with my kill. When we stopped at my grandparents' on the way home, I thought my grandpa was going to burst with pride. Mom was very proud and my younger sisters were amazed. During the course of that winter I felt a growing sense of pride in my accomplishment overshadowing my remorse for my betrayal of the deer as his meat fed our family.

So there you have it. My buck story. I hunted for another nine seasons and never got a shot at another deer. I was nearly shot by another hunter one year and another year I was run over by a herd of deer. The last year I went out I was four months pregnant with my first child and decided the blood that should have been in my extremities was collected in my womb nourishing that baby and it was too dang cold to pee in the woods every half hour.

AFTERWORD: When we butchered that deer my dad cut off the rack and put in the loft of the horse barn where it stayed most of the winter. In the spring I noticed it was gone and Dad said it had maggots on it and he got rid of it. I was bummed because I'd wanted to mount it somehow. The following October I turned 17 and we had my birthday dinner at my grandparents'. The best gift I received was from my proud grandfather: he had soaked the deer skull in a lye solution and mounted the rack on a piece of oak he'd cut from an old pew from the Catholic Church that was torn down a few years before. He used to be a tool-and-die man and with his tools he'd stamped these words onto a brass plate he affixed to the oak:
TAKEN BY
LORA CORSER -16 -
WITH ONE
SHOT
NOV -21-1976

VENISON FOR A VETERAN

2005-11-11T07:45:00.000-08:00
A couple weeks ago I informed the four kids that they were all going to be responsible for planning and preparing one supper a month. I said they had to keep the cost under $10 and that included dessert, if they wanted it. Ramsey, of course, dug in his heels and objected to this idea, but the other three enthusiastically started looking at cookbooks and in the freezer, pantry, and cupboards. Wylie was the first to pick his day to cook and claimed today, Veteran's Day. I asked him if we should invite Papa (my dad) to join us for the meal and he liked that idea as well.

Wy wanted to learn to cook fish, venison, and duck. We have plenty of duck, thanks to Ramsey, but no venison as of two days ago. So Wy was going with duck. Tuesday evening I checked messages on the answering machine and heard a twangy, redneck voice say, "Venison. It's what's for dinner." Couple hours later there was a nice six-point hanging in the garage. And Wyler switched gears on his dinner menu: tenderloin, mashed potatoes, and corn with cranberry-apple cobbler for dessert.

My dad is coming down from Ontonagon to participate in the Veteran's Day ceremony held every year at the school, then he'll go to the nursing home to visit the vets who reside there, and also go spend some time with a fellow Marine and Korean vet who is slowly dying of cancer.

Dad did his part in serving his country and now he's doing his part in remembering, honoring, and encouraging fellow veterans. I'm glad to do my part and teach my children to never forget the sacrifices made by their grandfather and so many others. Are you doing your part?

WHERE IS THE TOLERANCE?

2005-11-01T10:02:00.000-08:00
I find myself growing increasingly intolerant of the intolerance I see among the proponents of tolerance. Allow me to share here something written by Franklin Graham, son of Billy Graham, which aptly expresses what I have been thinking and feeling:

Tolerance has become the new watchword of our times. It is heralded as perhaps the highest virtue in Western culture that glues people of differing backgrounds and ideologies together for the sake of promoting cultural unity. And why shouldn't it be? It sounds good, right? In fact, it sounds so good that anyone who would dare talk negatively about this sacred cow of civility would almost be considered immoral. But that's just the point. The media and the governmental bureaucrats tell us to be tolerant of everything and anything except the Gospel of salvation, all in the name of political correctness. It seems almost ironic that Christians are not being tolerated by such a "tolerant" society.

So I admit, I get frustrated and a bit defensive when I encounter intolerance toward the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ. In Western societies these days, just about any viewpoint, religion, or behavior is exempt from criticism in the name of "tolerance". It is "politically incorrect" to give anything but reverent respect to the most off-the-wall ideas that come from individuals. All of this is done in the name of "tolerance".

But such tolerance is not universal. One of the few loopholes in the "law of tolerance" involves followers of the Name of Jesus Christ. If you are a born-again Christian, don't expect the same tolerance that others enjoy -- the playing field is not level as it relates to other beliefs. For decades now, Christians have been on the run over issues like prayer in public forums and Nativity scenes erected on public property.

To illustrate: Since the September 11 attacks, there has been heightened interest in America concerning Islam. For instance, one California school district went so far as to require seventh grade students to learn the tenets of Islam, study important persons in the history of the religion, learn verses from the Koran, pray "in the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful," and chant "Praise to Allah, Lord of Creation."

Can you imagine the lawsuits that would raise their ugly heads if a teacher commanded students to memorize Bible verses, recite the Lord's Prayer, or pray in the Name of Jesus? Any teacher that would allow this would be fired, and the school district sued!

Christians are increasingly not tolerated because they are viewed as intolerant! In the past, "tolerance" in matters of faith meant respectful acknowledgment of different ideas. It did not mean that all such ideas were granted equal validity as truth. It makes me wonder why other religions are able to promote their theology in public forums. Even our government seems to bend over backward to give them a hearing. But these days if you mention the Name of Jesus or seek to discuss Christian ideas publicly, you risk being labeled by the media-created term "the religious right" and are considered a dangerous threat to the doctrine of the separation of church and state.

An FBI analysis show that Thomas Jefferson's views on church and state weren't what we've heard -- far from it. When Jefferson penned his now famous phrase, "a wall of separation between Church and State", in a letter dated January 1, 1802, to the Danbury Baptist Association in Connecticut, did he expect it to be memorable? Maybe. A 1998 FBI laboratory analysis of the letter showed that Jefferson labored over that portion of the letter, perhaps fussing over its political impact. But did our third president expect his words to effectively drive religion out of the public square? No. Jefferson's initial draft reveals his understanding that the federal government simply lacked jurisdiction over religion. So who gave us the wall of separation that renders prayers at graduations and in public parks unconstitutional? The author of that wall was not Jefferson, but U.S. Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black, appointed by Franklin Roosevelt in 1937 and who served until his death in 1971. In a number of rulings he helped write, Black used Jefferson's language, but not Jefferson's meaning. Black's separationist leanings became more aggressive over time, resulting in rulings that ordered the removal of religious instruction, prayer and Bible reading from public schools and bans on graduation prayers and the posting of the Ten Commandments.

One of Jefferson's greatest achievements was the passage of the Virginia Statute of Religious Liberty, which was passed in 1786 after a long and heated debate in the legislature. This piece of legislation provided the basis for the constitutional guarantee of religious freedom as found in the First Amendment of the Constitution...Jefferson's wish had been turned into law: "An Act for Establishing Religious Freedom...that all men shall be free to profess, and by argument to maintaiin, their opinion in matters of religion, and that the same shall in no wise diminish, enlarge, or affect their civil capacities."

The painful irony is that it was our Christian roots in America that created an environment supportive of free thought and behavior that has resulted in tolerance, as it is now understood. Regardless of what the media movers and shakers think about Christians, the truth remains that their very freedom to express such opinions is a result of this nation's Christian heritage. Our democratic system did not spring from Hindu, Buddhist, Shinto, or Moslem traditions. The Bible -- not the Koran, Vedas, Tripitika, or other so-called holy books -- is the source of our nation's philosophy on the value of mankind and how they should treat one another and be governed. Even today, men and women are laying down their lives to preserve our Bible-based freedom.

America is infatuated with this false understanding of tolerance. To be truly tolerant is not to give every idea equal standing or to compromise the truth in the interest of keeping the peace and making everyone happy. Being tolerant does mean accepting the fact that every person is created in the image of Almighty God and that we each have a soul that will live for eternity. Jesus Christ paid the price for our eternal salvation through the shedding of His blood on Calvary's cross for all men -- equally.

As American citizens, Christians have the same constitutional rights as everyone else. I am offended when others display intolerance when I take my stand for Jesus Christ. Such intolerance should not totally surprise me either. The Lord Jesus Christ warns that His followers cannot avoid being hated for His "name's sake".

The Name of Jesus Christ is a lightning rod because Jesus Christ represents the division of life between good and evil, God and Satan, light and darkness, righteousness and sin, heaven and hell. The Name of Jesus shouts out a choice: "Whom will you serve, give your life to, depend upon?" Rebellious, self-willed people want to retain the right to decide for themselves which way they will take. Jesus denies this option. Speaking on His behalf, the Apostle Peter said, "For there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved."

Jesus is gentle, but He is not weak. He loves the sinner but is absolutely intolerant of sin. He is not a negotiator. He is Lord. It is this bristling truth that invites intolerance toward Christians. Jesus did not say, "Do your own thing; all roads lead to God." That would have made Jesus "politically correct", but Jesus is not politically correct. He is Lord.

I REST MY CASE

2005-10-28T07:01:00.000-07:00
As I have a full day today, instead of writing a blog I would refer my readers to my post titled "Drama King" of October 18th and the fourth comment posted on it. Disclaimer: Entirely his doing.

Have a great day!

FRICK AND FRACK

2005-10-27T08:06:00.000-07:00
Last night we had our friends, Diane and Rick, over for dinner. Diane and Rick Frick. I know...the name cracks us up, too. Don't know what his parents were thinking. But you know what's even more remarkable? Rick and Diane named their only child, a son, Rick! Go figure. Anyway, I digress...

Together they are another Ricky and Lucy Ricardo. She is wacky and he is her straight-man. Diane says whatever comes to her mind. To say she is uninhibited is an understatement. Whether she ever embarrasses her husband is hard to say. I think because they've been together so long (around 35 years) he's just used to her. When I first met her I didn't know quite what to make of her. Now I find her delightful. She never stops talking, and with full-color animation. The stories she tells of their travels and adventures are so bizarre as to be unbelievable, but Rick verifies that she is not exaggerating in the least. I choked three times laughing during dinner -- talk about dinner and a show! My stomach hurt from laughing and swallowing too much air.

A year ago Rick suffered a terrible accident and fell off the roof of his own home (no worker's comp for that). He shattered his hip, fractured his pelvis, injured his back and arm. It has been a long, difficult, and life-changing year for them. Two surgeries: one to put him back together with screws and plates, and the other to remove said hardware and try (unsuccessfully) to remove a surgical drillbit which broke off imbedded in bone during the first surgery(!). Never one to sit around, Rick always was working on something...on the job, at home, or for friends. Now he can't work. Between that realization and the constant pain he endures, I think he came near a breaking point. But, that's where his little spitfire wife, Diane, comes in. She cajoles, prods, encourages, berates, defends, scolds, torments, champions, and loves her husband. She has been at his side, in spite of her own fears and fatigue, caring for him, up at all hours when he can't sleep for the pain, wiping his butt (as she unabashedly tells us), feeding him, listening to him, intervening for him...this little 4'10" wildcat has put more than one high-powered, highly degreed surgeon into tail-tuck and back-up mode.

I tell Diane she ought to write a book and she waves me off. I tell her I'll write the book because it would be a best-seller and the money will help take care of their insurmountable medical bills. She just laughs. Problem is, I don't think the written word can do Diane justice; it would be difficult to capture her in a book. Maybe the Big Screen...but Lucy's gone; who could ever play the part of Diane Frick?

CALL OF THE WILD

2005-10-25T07:16:00.000-07:00
There they go...can hardly see them, though, being that they're fully camoed out. I squint, narrowing my vision, trying make out who these mysterious early morning figures are; silhouetted against the faint lightening in the east. I have a very distraught labrador at my feet...funny...usually she's afraid of strange things in the dark, but now seems very eager to go outside. The figures part ways, one carrying a bow and the other a cased shotgun. The archer disappears into the woods behind our home while the gunman commandeers Ramsey's Chevy and canoe. Boy, he's not going to be happy when he finally rolls out of the sack at 9:45 and finds his wheels gone.

This covert operation is making me skittish. I go to rouse my sleeping children and gather them in a safer, interior room of the house (do we have an interior room?). I open the girls' bedroom door to find in Taylie's bed a very fat cat blinking sleepily in the warm spot left after her sister's departure. Inspection of the boys' room reveals an empty top bunk...

The time is 6:43 AM. These two kids usually have to be pried out of bed with a crowbar or a glass of cold water. Maybe I should start using a duck call and a deer grunt...or a whiff of "Doe in Estrus" waved under their noses...

ITCHY AND SCRATCHY GO TO CRYSTAL FALLS

2005-10-20T16:44:00.000-07:00
Sunday I bought two bushels of baking apples (Cortlands and Wolf Rivers) from the guy with the apple truck in town. Yesterday my mom came over and we spent the day peeling, slicing, and freezing apples for pies and making applesauce. Kind of a tradition. The kitchen was a mess, but the house sure smelled good. I love tucking those packages of apple slices in my freezer; it's that "hunkering down" thing I've written of before. And there's nothing like fresh homemade apple pie, warm from the oven!

Ramsey is sitting in his tree stand in the woods behind our house this evening and Mark is guiding up on Lake Gogebic. Hopefully, they both will have good luck. I am glad Ramsey is deer hunting tonight because he's been obsessed with duck hunting lately and I'm wanting venison.

It's been a busy week with no end in sight. Tomorrow the kids have art class and piano lessons, Mark guides again tomorrow and Saturday, Taylie worked at the Tackle Box with Ramsey today and does again on Saturday. I am on worship team at church this Sunday and will have practice sometime Saturday. I'm still chipping away at fall cleaning, the leaves are almost all down and then the raking begins.

As for the goofy title -- I thought it might create some interest in this somewhat boring post.

DRAMA KING

2005-10-18T15:01:00.000-07:00
The first and third Tuesday each month during the school year, our local library hosts a homeschool group activity. This semester we are studying drama and putting on a production of the Wizard of Oz. The library has brought in a retired drama professor to teach and direct. A very good opportunity for these homeschoolers.

Not if you ask my son, Wylie. It's rather ironic that he detests having to go to this class; as he is easily the most dramatic of my four children and definitely a born comedian. He was the unplanned "oops" born 13 months after his sister. It wasn't funny at the time, but God must have known I would need comic relief.

Wylie has tried everything to get out of having to attend drama:

"I'll take piano lessons if I don't have to take drama."

I told him he was taking both.

"I'm painfully shy."

Yeah, right.

Today his dramatic flair really surfaced. He faked diarrhea for six hours, clutching his belly and staggering for the bathroom.

"I can't go today, Mom."

I gave him a Pepto Bismol tablet and told him to get in the car.

At drama practice he didn't suffer a single cramp nor made a single trip to the washroom. He hammed it up as the Scarecrow, much to the delight of his co-actors. He just can't help himself.

99 AND HOLDING

2005-10-13T06:14:00.000-07:00
As long as I'm on the subject of birthdays and getting older...

My grandmother, affectionately known as "Nana", turned 99 on the first of this month...99...ninety-nine...no matter how you write it, that's OLD. But I will say this, Nana has aged gracefully. At least, up until the last couple years anyway. She has lost some of the grace but none of her style. For example, last year when I was helping her celebrate her birthday, she announced, "I can't believe I'm 87 years old! Why, I'm pushing 90!" I, ungracefully of course, had to set her straight, "I hate to burst your bubble, Nana, but you aren't 87, you're 98. You're pushing 100." "No I'm not!" she retorted. "I'm afraid you are," I said, "Do the math." (A former elementary teacher can never resist that challenge.) "What year is this?" Nana asked. "2004," says I, "and you were born in 1906". She did the cyphering on paper and I knew when she had the answer because all she said was, "Shit." Not real graceful but very much her style.

On her birthday this year, as I sat on the edge of her bed in the nursing home where she's resided since breaking her hip last winter, she announced, after coughing, that she hated to cough. Upon my asking why she said, "Because I pee all over when I cough." Too bad she hadn't made that announcement before I got settled on the bed with her. She thought it was funny. Not very graceful but, nevertheless, her style.

She also declared she was not ready to die but didn't want to see another birthday because she did not want to end up having Willard Scott wish her a happy 100th. You watch...she'll outlive Willard just to spite him. Not real graceful, but definitely her style.

est. 1960

2005-10-12T09:05:00.000-07:00
Me and Gander Mountain. Both established in 1960. Two of my husband's favorites.

Having recently celebrated my birthday, I find myself pondering how I ever got to be 45 years old. I'm not depressed or devastated by this; just astounded. I can quite clearly remember my seventh birthday (but I can't remember what I came downstairs for). How can I be old enough to clearly remember anything 38 years ago? How did I end up in this body with parts that hurt for no apparent reason? Since when do I snore? Why am I suddenly interested in magazines with articles touting titles like, "Flatter Abs in Eight Days!"?

Before the rest of you who are older than me start rubbing my nose in the fact that I am "just a youngster", let me wallow in being 45 for a while. I'll deal with 50 when I get there.

UNDER PRESSURE

2005-09-21T13:15:00.000-07:00
Whew! Got that done...off my mind and off my to-do list. I just finished canning pickled beets and dilled green beans. The vegetables had been waiting for me and I was under pressure that they would spoil before I could get to them. I had big plans yesterday to get the zucchini grated and frozen, the beets pickled, and the beans dilled, but...as it seems to happen...Tessa and Wylie came down with a virus that's going around. I have not been summoned that often since all my kids were little. "Mom...Mama...Mom...Mom...Mama...Mom..." Aaaargh! Anyway, between tending to the two sickies, I only managed to get the zucchini dealt with and baked two loaves of zucchini bread and made supper. Oh, and did two loads of laundry, ran Taylie to work at 10:00, and back into town to pick her up at 2:00.

So it is a big relief today to have the rest of the veggies processed and gleaming green and purple in their jars. Canning is always kind of a high tension thing for me. Aside from the "get 'em done before they rot" thing, I get stressed by kids underfoot when I'm working with boiling liquids and hot jars. I don't even deal with pressure canning; I stick to boiling water bath canning. Probably a carry-over from my childhood when my mother would be canning tomatoes and practically shriek at my sister and me to "GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN!! THIS THING COULD BLOW UP!!" Scared the wits out of us as we hid at the far end of the house with visions of our mom dying in an explosion of steaming hot tomatoes. No thank you. I'm perfectly content to buy my tomatoes precanned from the store. My dear friend, Linda, pressure cans tomatoes. I can only assume her mother didn't do any canning when Linda was little. Ignorance is bliss.

MONDAY MORNING

2005-09-12T08:06:00.000-07:00
It is Monday morning and I am trying to get back into the routine of a busy school week day. We returned from camping at Lake Gogebic refreshed and renewed, but I'm finding it difficult to make the transition from R&R to "business as usual". Mondays are always full days for me...doubly so when they follow a weekend away.

Our family weekend was wonderful with great weather, beautiful fall colors swirling down in the breeze, ducks and chipmunks to feed, new friends in the campsite next to us, good eating, and a second place in the walleye tournament for Mark.

The Lord ministered to me in a special way as I spent my quiet time with Him early in the mornings on the shore of the lake; the sun an orange ball peeking above the far treeline. I'd been feeling somewhat pummeled and discouraged of late but He restored my joy and renewed my hope. He's pulled me from the mirey clay, He's given me a brand new day; my heart and soul are praising, Halleluia!

LITTLE SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE BIG WOODS

2005-09-06T17:54:00.000-07:00
Today is our first official day of school. We've been doing a little review over the past couple weeks to get back into the swing of things. We will have a three day school week and then leave Thursday evening to go camping and fish the Gogebic Walleye Tournament. Then, no more breaks until Christmas.

I am praying for a good school year; productive and organized. I am working on our school calendar and weighing activities versus current gas prices. We will continue the art class held at our church with a local artist two days a month. Our piano teacher's son will be participating in the art class this year and she has graciously agreed to give the girls their lessons those same days after a brief break for lunch. That means they will only receive piano lessons twice a month rather than weekly but it saves me driving them all the way to Eagle River with gas at $3.40 a gallon. The homeschool group that meets twice a month at the local library will be studying drama and putting on a play this semester. This is another opportunity worth the gas it takes to get them there. And there's youth group at church. If I had to cut everything but one, this would be the one. I trust God will provide the means for me to drive my kids to the activities He would have us participate in.

New textbooks, new notebooks, and renewed goals. This is the start of school. I am motivated and committed. My prayer is that I will be able to maintain a level of motivation and committment to sustain me through May of next year.

NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS

2005-08-31T12:12:00.000-07:00
Seems like every year when my family retreats to the cabins in Silver City there is some great, shocking, scandalous, or devastating event going on somewhere in the world being given 24-hour media coverage. In the ten years we've been going, our trip has coincided with such things as Princess Diana's tragic death, Bill Clinton's affair with Monica, the slimy, mud-slinging home stretch of two presidential campaigns, and the Sept. 11th World Trade Center horror...to name a few. This year it is the unbelievable devastation of Hurricane Katrina.

Being that there are no phones, TVs, or radios at the cabins we are blissfully ignorant of the graphic details and constant talk of these events. I don't say "unaware" because, with the exception of Princess Diana's death, all the aforementioned were already in motion before we headed north. It is not until we come back to "civilization", and stop for our traditional burgers at Henry's Bar in Rockland, that we are brought slammingly back to reality.

This year, the burgers were hard to swallow while watching the scenes of immense wreckage, loss, and death on the TV screens at either end of Henry's dining room. And then last night, watching the senseless looting and violence that this type of catastrophe seems to bring out in some people. I don't understand it and it makes me want to bury my head, not only in the sand but in my hands and weep.

But our peaceful interlude of rest and relaxation in the UP helps me to lift my head, lift my eyes and prayers up to Him who knows all ... all the details, all the pain, all the horror and shock. The true Good News is that God loved the world so much, He sent His beloved Son to die for each and every person ever born so that, if they would just believe in Him and trust Jesus, they would not perish but have eternal life. And salvation is not just something reserved for after our earthly life is over. Walking with JESUS makes all the pain, sorrow, and hardship bearable.

I am daily convicted of the necessity of being faithful to share my faith in Him with those around me; to share the Good News with the lost and searching. There are people all around me who live in devastation and wreckage that has nothing to do with a hurricane.

SILVER CITY

2005-08-26T09:39:00.000-07:00
Summer's end is always marked for me by our annual pilgrimage to Silver City, Mi. We, along with my extended family, stay in rustic cabins nestled right on the shore Lake Superior. It is a time away, looked forward to by all, when we can do whatever we want and eat more than we should. My children and their cousins mark their calendars and count down the days til they can romp and play on the beach, in the water, in whichever cabin has the best snacks.

I began this tradition and it has a lot of meaning for me besides the getting away. I came to these same cabins in 1965 and '66 with my parents, younger sister, (youngest sister had not made an appearance yet), and my paternal grandparents. I remember sitting up late at night listening to the adults talking, gathering driftwood for a fire on the beach, and the pet sheep the owners had at the time. Something like that kind of sticks in your mind. Years later, in my mid-thirties, I rediscovered this small resort while on a day-trip to Ontonagon and the Porkies with my grandmother. There was something so familiar about the place and Nana confirmed that it was where we had stayed in the sixties. I promptly went home and booked us two cabins for the following year. How wonderful that was to return there with my kids, their grandparents, and my grandmother! It has now swelled to booking four cabins and both my sisters have joined us. The price has gone up, the beach has shrunk, gas is out of sight but we all agree...this is priceless.

AUTUMN AWARENESS

2005-08-23T15:49:00.000-07:00
The signs of autumn's approach are everywhere. Colored leaves on the ground at the end of our driveway, a completely red-leafed maple on our road, the temptation to turn on the furnace to take off the night's chill. The UPS truck roaring up the drive to deliver boxes of school curriculum. Shotguns, bows, and arrows being checked, adjusted, cleaned, and sighted. The oven giving off delicious aromas...

It was a great summer but it went by so quickly. I am hoping for a beautiful and prolonged fall with warm days and crisp nights...apple crisp, cherry crisp, blueberry crisp. Summer's bounty to enjoy!

GAS PAINS

2005-08-16T11:56:00.000-07:00
Ouch! $2.79 a gallon and rising. Pulling up to the pump these days is a painful experience. I am having to carefully consider the necessity of every trip to town or church. Then try to consolidate as much business into each trip as possible. I find it ironic that the Driver's Ed. class Taylie is taking, which will free me up from some of the running around next year, requires me to drive 300 miles getting her there and back during the three week duration of the class.

I am very thankful I do not drive a gas-guzzling, nine mpg, full-size van anymore. My old lady Buick LeSabre gets 28 mpg around town. It may be square, but it gets me there...with change to spare.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

2005-08-11T11:59:00.000-07:00
We are heading out for our first camping trip of the year this weekend. It is long overdue. With kids' summer jobs, it is not easy to schedule these things. We will go to one of our favorite campgrounds, Gogebic State Park. The fishermen will pre-fish (whatever that means!) before the Gogebic Walleye Tournament; our next, and annual, camping trip in September.

This is also our maiden voyage with our new camper -- new to us, anyway. After selling our vintage 1971 Holiday Rambler we bought a 1996 Wilderness. She doesn't have quite the character of the old girl's 70's avocado green and harvest gold. More like 90's country blue and mauve. But, I'm sure with time, she'll grow on us; just like the Rambler did.

I am looking forward to a quiet, relaxing weekend with nothing to do. It has been a hectic summer and an even crazier week. I will have the luxury of sleeping in if I want to. I will not have to drive anyone anywhere. I will be able to read without feeling like I should be doing something else. I will not have to answer the phone. I will not have to efficiently plan my day.

It'll be good to be the Queen for a day or two. :)

MARTHA MARY MOMENT

2005-08-06T05:03:00.000-07:00
Wednesday, my busy schedule opened up unexpectedly and I had a choice to make: stay home and get caught up on housework and pay bills, or go to Ontonagon to see my grandmother. These things bore equal pressure on me because I was negligent in both. This summer has been so packed I have struggled to keep up, and unfortunately some very important areas have suffered. As I weighed my options, my conscience told me, "Look at what a dump this house is and those two bills are overdue! How could you have let that happen?" My heart quietly pointed out, "It's been a month since you've seen Nana. Housework and bills will always be here, but she won't." It was the classic Martha Mary thing. (Luke 10:41,42) Happily, my Mary heart won out and I threw some snacks in a cooler, the kids grabbed their swimsuits and towels, and we took off for Ontonagon (stopping in town long enough to pay a couple bills). :)

I am so thankful we went. The kids have not seen their great grandmother since before she fell, breaking her hip, last February and ending up in the nursing home. At almost 99 years of age, a person's resiliency isn't what it used to be and Nana has changed in physical appearance and strength considerably. I was a little concerned about how the kids would handle the nursing home, as it can be disconcerting at times. Once when visiting Nana, her roommate had kicked off her blankets, wriggled down in her bed so her nightgown was up around her waist, and was babbling in Finnish. I summoned an aide and wasn't too disturbed but was glad my kids hadn't witnessed it.

God is good. The nursing home was quiet, Nana and her roommate were both asleep (and fully covered) when we arrived. I gave the kids the opportunity to come, one by one, to the bedside and look at her. They were able to process what she looks like now, and their reaction, while she was asleep. They were startled and tears were in their eyes, but it was a good thing. I hugged them and talked with them and when I did wake Nana the kids were able to greet her without being hampered by trying to hide their emotions. They were relieved to find she knew them and still had her great sense of humor. We visited about an hour and I knew it was a blessing to Nana as well as to us.

My dad came to the nursing home while we were there and, when we left, we spent some time with him. Then we we headed for the beach. As I sat on the shore watching my kids swim, play and laugh together in that great lake where their great grandmother had once done the same, my heart swelled with joy and thanksgiving. I had made the right choice.

DEAL WITH IT

2005-08-02T21:18:00.000-07:00
The nightshirt reads: Pull up your big-girl panties and deal with it! Cracked me up. I'm thinking of ordering them in bulk.

I have to admit this sleepwear admonishment applies to me as much, if not more, as it does to anyone I might direct it at. Especially lately, I have been doing a lot of whining, complaining, why-meing, resenting, and other such martyr mentality activities. I am ashamed of myself. A good part of the stuff that drives me nuts, I bring on myself. The rest of it...well, who am I to think I should not have trials, tribulations, irritations, insults, and abuse? My Lord Jesus bore much worse and without self-pity, resentment, and complaint. So, excuse me while I pull up my big-girl panties and deal with it...joyfully.

"I remember my afflictions and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him'." Lamentations 3:19-24

OLD FAITHFUL

2005-07-31T20:40:00.000-07:00
Wow. It has been three months since I last blogged. I did not tell her I posted one yesterday. I never assumed she would still be faithfully checking my blog page. I should have known. I published a post yesterday afternoon; by five-something this morning, Cheri had posted a comment on it. Talk about faithful...I'd have given up on me long ago.

Lest she think the title of this post refers to her, Cheri's faithfulness in all things is the result her desire to follow the example of Old Faithful. Not the geyser but the Lord God, the great I AM. His faithfulness far exceeds any we will ever know. And talk about not giving up on lost causes! It began with Adam and Eve and their deadly decision to disobey and has continued down through history. To me. And you. "Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens, Your faithfulness to the skies." (Ps. 36:5) God loves and blesses those who receive Him. "For the Lord is good and His love endures forever; His faithfulness continues through all generations." (Ps.100:5) He does not give up easily on the lost. "He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." (2 Peter 3:9) He extends mercy and grace to all who come to Him. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." (1 Jn. 1:9) But those who harden their hearts and continue to turn to their own way, He gives over to their evil desires. "Furthermore, since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, He gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought not to be done. They have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed and depravity...Although they know God's righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them." (Rm. 1:28,29,32)

I praise God for His faithfulness. I thank Him for not giving up on me. And thank you, too, Cheri.

TO BLOG OR NOT TO BLOG 2

2005-07-30T16:59:00.000-07:00
It has been about 11 months since I first came on the blogging scene. It has been exactly three months since I last blogged (and my posts were pretty sporadic for a while before that). Having said that, I can only plead busyness for my spotty appearances. My good and faithful friend, Cheri, (speaking of both the quality of her friendship and her blogging) has gently and persistently urged me to resume my writing efforts. Her persistence has proved greater than my resistance so...here I am! I am not promising much; except that I will make a greater effort to offer something offhand more regularly.

SWEET FIFTEEN

2005-04-30T09:50:00.000-07:00
Another child's birthday! Today it's Taylie turning fifteen. FIFTEEN!! How did that happen?! I can't believe the cold and windy day in April, when our beautiful baby girl came into our lives, was fifteen years ago. And what an entry it was! She took her sweet time -- eighteen hours of labor with very little progress -- and then, at 8:14 pm, Mama told the midwife, "I have the urge to push!" At 8:15, Taylor Grace was born. A little intense, to say the least. She continues to be intense in all she does...whether silly, serious, interested, or bored. Her likes and dislikes. Her work and play. She still takes us by surprise.

As I observe this tall (for our family), slender, blonde beauty, I can't help but marvel at God's creation; His gift to us. And at how He has gifted this young woman. It is with great anticipation and thankfulness, we await the unfolding of His good and perfect plan for our lovely daughter. Happy birthday, Taylie-girl; may you always be a woman after God's own heart.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RAMSEY!

2005-04-06T08:43:00.000-07:00
Nineteen years ago today my first child was born and I began this journey known as motherhood. I've come to realize motherhood is one of God's most powerful tools for shaping and refining...not the child, but the mother.

Last year, when he turned 18, Ramsey was gone from us to Fort Leonard Wood, MO, for basic and advanced training. This year, as he turns 19, he is gone again for advanced training at Fort McCoy in southwestern Wisconsin. It's very strange to have a child absent for their birthday...but I guess I better get used to it!

Ramsey was a beautiful baby and a sweet little boy. He has grown to be a fine young man. I have much to be proud of him for and thankful to God for. I am very proud of Ramsey's willingness and commitment to serve our country in the armed forces. I am thankful that God has kept His Hand upon Ramsey, guiding him and protecting him. As I, once again, place my son in God's Hands, my prayer is that He would continue the good work that He began in Ramsey and that his life would bear fruit for God's glory and the furthering of His Kingdom.

Happy Birthday, Rams, and may God keep you, bless you, and guide you always. We love you.

WINDY CITY ADVENTURES

2005-03-01T05:57:00.000-08:00
I'm back to full-force reality since arriving home from a week in Chicago. Had a great time of fun, relaxation, culture, fine dining, shopping, sight-seeing, and silliness. No responsibilities, except for myself, took a little getting used to but I soon adjusted! Some of the highlights of my trip include: Second City comedy club, a William Morris art exhibit at Northwestern University, tour of Frank Lloyd Wright's home and studio in Oak Park, and a day spent at the Art Institute of Chicago. All wonderful experiences for me.

Meaningful on a different level was our visit to the neonatal intensive care unit at Rush Medical Center where Mindy works. It's kind of difficult to describe, as it leaves you at a loss for words. I was hit with so many things as I walked through the unit, stopping by each baby's isolette. The first thing is how beautiful or cute the babies are and then it hits you what their circumstances are: the challenges of being born too early or born with physical anomalies, the sorrow of not being cherished, the horror of a mother's attempt to abort herself. At the same time, you are absorbing the surroundings of monitors, alarms going off warning of imminent death; lights, wires, and tubes; staff busy working on babies so tiny and frail; young parents looking unsure and uncomfortable. It is all pretty overwhelming. But even in the midst of all that, there were glimpses of God's Presence: scripture passages taped to the walls of isolettes (including the card we attach to the knitted hats we send with Ps. 139:13-14), a mother's Bible on top of her child's isolette, and the evidence of His creation in these precious children. I have always had an appreciation of life but this experience certainly deepened it.

I hit the ground running, back in the Northwoods, with a to-do list a mile long and a lot of catching up to do...but it was worth it!

COUNTRY MOUSE, CITY BOUND

2005-02-18T06:57:00.000-08:00
On Monday, this backwoods girl is heading to the Windy City for five days. Going down with Cindy to stay with daughter, Mindy. She will take us on a tour of the neonatal intensive care unit at Rush where she works. I will see, firsthand, the precious babies we're knitting hats for. I know it will be an overwhelming experience. Also, I will be spending a day and night with my friend, Karen, who is taking me to Second City, the comedy club downtown Chicago, and on a tour of Frank Lloyd Wright's home and studio in Oak Park. We'll find time to go to the Art Institute, do some big city shopping, and eat at a couple authentic Italian restaurants, as well.

I have much to do in preparation to go. I have never left my family for more than a weekend. It should be interesting how things go around here that week! Along with my travel preparations I also have the usual, and unusual, demands on my time in the next few days: school, kids' art class, grocery shopping, pay bills, laundry, work at Klondike Days, work at a house I clean (besides mine). To quote Calvin & Hobbes, "The days are just packed!"

Blogging probably won't be on my to-do list until after I return from Chicago, and I'll have much to write about then. So, to quote another beloved character, "T.T.F.N.!"

WYLER AUSTIN, THOUGHT WE'D LOST 'IM

2005-02-17T10:58:00.000-08:00
Today is our youngest child's 11th birthday. Wyler Austin, aka Wylie. The unplanned, unexpected surprise fourth child, arriving 13 months after his sister. Discovering I was pregnant with him blew me away. I had a tiny infant, was exhausted, and had not yet recovered psychologically from her birth. I didn't tell Mark the news for two weeks. He flipped.
Looking back on that time, I don't know what our life would be without this little goof-ball God bestowed on us. From the moment he arrived in our world, with his huge eyes wide open, he has cracked us up. The Lord must have known we would be needing some comic relief through the years.

Wylie has also given us more heart-stopping moments than the other three put together: eating a glass Christmas ornament (helpfully thrown into his playpen by his sister), tumbling all the way down the basement stairs (after the baby gate was helpfully opened by the same sister), choking on a little square of film from a View Finder reel (sis wasn't involved in that one), swallowing his brother's off-limits Legos, nearly drowning in Lake Superior, and (worst of all by far) wandering off at the age of three at a crowded State Park. The first few years were a real rollercoaster! And now you get the title of this blog.

I offer a prayer of heartfelt gratitude for this son of laughter, our "Isaac", for God's protection of him, and ask for wisdom as we guide him on the path to becoming a godly young man. Happy Birthday "Wyler, Wyler, manure piler"...that's another story.

I'M A KNIT-WIT

2005-02-14T08:25:00.000-08:00
I have just spent over an hour on-line looking at patterns for knitting and felting tote bags. It's astounding what's out there! There are tons of knitting websites, blogs completely devoted to knitting, yarn shops, and chat rooms filled with knitters chatting about their knitting.

I, myself, have five knitting projects in process (besides continuously cranking out newborn hats for the NICU at Rush Medical): felted clogs, two dish cloths, a sweater, and a pair of socks. And here I am looking for another project! I admit it; I'm a knit-wit. But at least I'm not a misfit --
there are too many of us out there! We are a force to be reckoned with!

SIGNS OF THE TIMES

2005-02-10T22:47:00.000-08:00
Today was one of those days that kind of rubbed my face in the fact that I am getting older...

Started off top of the morning with my yearly mamogram, picked up my new bifocals at the eyewear center, ran into a high school chum and her granddaughter at the grocery store, and found out my younger sister's former husband suffered a massive heart attack (thankfully, he survived). Finished out the day with our usual Thursday night card game with two other couples, where every hand someone's asking, "What was trump?" or "What was led?" or "Whose deal is it?" You know it's getting pretty bad when your husband is cupping his hand behind his ear to help him hear what someone is saying.

RESTING ON MY LAURELS

2005-02-09T08:24:00.000-08:00
Here I have been contentedly resting on my laurels in the blogging department, but that has caused certain parties a minor amount of discontent. If I am to be completely honest, I'd have to admit I've just been too lazy to write. Sorry 'bout that!

I got to thinking about the idiom "resting on my laurels". This means we're satisfied with what we've done and we don't try to improve or make things better. Well, that notion clashed with my desire for contentment. There is always room for improvement in my character and output. But I can be very content resting on Jesus' laurels. He has done it all and there is no room for improvement!

WORD OF THE DAY: CONTENTMENT

2005-01-18T07:10:00.000-08:00
"If we have not quiet in our minds, outward comfort will do no more for us than a golden slipper on a gouty foot." ~ John Bunyan

(No pun intended there, but I sure found it amusing -- "gouty foot"...John Bunyan...get it?...bunion...OK, never mind!)

With that aside, after I got my chuckle, I was made aware of how God has been working on me in the area of contentment. He keeps bringing it to the forefront of my mind in different ways: the above quote by John Bunyan, author of Pilgrim's Progress; daughter Taylie's literature selection yesterday was a short story by Leo Tolstoy titled, "How Much Land Does A Man Need". In this tale, Tolstoy teaches an important lesson about the Biblical principle of contentment and the consequences of greed. The man in the story was told he could buy, for 1000 rubles, as much land as he could walk around in one day. If he was not back to the starting point when the sun went down he would lose his money and the land. In his greed, he ventured further out than he could make it back from by sundown. When he realized his folly he began to run to try to make it to the starting point before the sun set. He ran himself to death. In the end, six feet of land, from his head to his heels, was all he needed.

God's Word has a lot to say about contentment. "Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have. For He Himself has said, 'I will never leave you nor forsake you'." Hebrews 13:5 Our discontent can be with our circumstances, our physical appearance, our talents and abilities, and our material possessions. I have struggled with discontent in all these areas at one time or another. Certain ones are chronic. Even if I do gain these things I covet, they won't last. I brought nothing into this world and it is certain I can carry nothing out. But God promises He will never leave me. God alone should be enough. 1Timothy 6:6 says, "Now godliness with contentment is great gain." This is what I want to covet.

SO YOU SAY YOU WANT A RESOLUTION

2005-01-15T06:57:00.000-08:00
Well, this New Year's resolution, to better manage my time, is proving quite challenging (ya think?). But I am resolutely resolved to resolve this resolution. First plan of attack: consistently early to bed, early to rise. I blew the first part of this last night by staying up until 1:am to finish knitting a baby hat. But I stuck with the latter part and forced myself out of bed at 6:30, despite the siren's call of my warm, flannel sheets. Two cups of coffee later (I normally only have one) I am off and running...well, that might be an exaggeration. I've had my devotion time, gotten a load of laundry washed and dried, mixed up pancakes for breakfast, and am eyeballing the rest of my day. Actually, I am eyeballing the end of my day -- the early to bed part won't be a problem tonight.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TESSA ROSE!

2005-01-12T07:51:00.000-08:00
Twelve years ago today a beautiful baby girl came into the world and into our lives. She took her time getting here, as she had passed her due date of December 26th and required two and a half days of pitocin-induced labor to make an appearance. The intensity of her birth was duplicated in the intensity of her gaze as her dark eyes locked onto mine as she nursed. In fact, intensity has continued to be the hallmark of her nature and character; she wears her heart on her sleeve and it's all or nothing with her. She is my biggest mess-maker, but she is also my best cleaner-upper. Her creativity is astounding; when she was four she dressed herself in an ensemble (complete with gloves, hat, and handbag) constructed entirely with computer printer paper and staples!

It is a bit of a shock to me that my youngest daughter is now twelve -- on the threshhold of young womanhood. I pray for wisdom as I guide her through these crucial, formative years and help her channel her God-given gifts. My prayer for her comes from Philippians 1:9-11, "May your love abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ -- to the glory and praise of God." Amen and Happy Birthday, Tessa Rosebud!

TIME TO SHINE

2005-01-11T19:18:00.000-08:00
My resolution for this new year is to better manage my time. It hits me that time is the only thing that stands between me and eternity. God has given me 1,440 minutes in each day. How I use those minutes is up to me. Some day I will answer to God and give an account of how I managed the gifts He gave me, time being one of them. I was meditating on God's Word to us in Ephesians 5:15-17, as follows: "See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be unwise, but understand what the will of the Lord is." The word "redeem" means to "buy back" or "buy out of". Back from or out of what? I believe in this context it means to buy it out of the world; all the distractions and darkness of the world. We must "walk circumspectly", which literally means to see all around one's self. This tells me I must proceed through each moment of my day carefully choosing how I will act and react, seeking God's will and making choices accordingly. I must understand our times and carve time out of the bondage of evil. To redeem the time means to make the most of every opportunity, not just let it sift away unused or wasted. Verse 11 of this same chapter tells us: "Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather expose them." Expose them with what? With the light Christ gives us. "For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light...finding out what is acceptable to the Lord." (Eph. 5:8-10) Wow...I was once darkness, but now I am light in the Lord. "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine!"

A NEW YEAR

2005-01-05T11:28:00.000-08:00
After a very nice Christmas with family and friends, we brought in the new year with Mark injuring his back at work on December 29th. After the emergency room, X-rays, doctor's office visits, and an MRI; it was determined to be a ruptured disc. The first few days were the roughest with a lot of pain and discomfort, difficulty moving, getting in and out of bed/recliner, sleepless nights, and a bad reaction to the prescribed pain-killer, Vicadin. But gradually, the pain has lessened and mobility has increased. He will begin physical therapy tomorrow and visit the doctor again on Friday.

As the doctor's order were to not go back to work, it has been interesting having Mark around the house this much. (As Cheri says: "Men are not meant to be home." And I am empathizing with Cindy, whose husband isn't working this winter.) It is difficult to get anything done and he asks, "Who are you calling?" every time I pick up the phone. When I'm in the basement doing laundry, he's calling for me from upstairs. When I'm in the bedroom, he's calling from the kitchen. When I'm doing school with the kids, he's interrupting, "Babe...". I love my husband and I'm always wishing he could be home with us more, but at this point he is getting shack-happy and is alternating between being silly and cranky. Fortunately, it's more often silly.

Some might say all this does not bode well for the new year but I am so thankful that I have my husband, unlike our friend, Sarah, who lost her beloved on December 4th. I am thankful that I can trust God is in control, even when finances are strained and the future is uncertain. I am confident He will provide for us and care for us in His loving mercy. Already, this has been a blessed New Year for us.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

2004-12-25T07:12:00.000-08:00
He was born of a woman so we could be born of God...
He humbled Himself so we could be lifted up...
He became a servant so we could be made heirs...
He suffered rejection so we could be His friends...
He denied Himself so we could freely receive all things...
He gave Himself so He could bless us in every way!

"He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?" Romans 8:32

May you know His love this Christmas.

CHRISTMAS FUTURE

2004-12-24T06:30:00.000-08:00
"You are worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power; for You created all things, and by Your will they exist and were created."
Revelation 4:11

The Lamb who was slain alone deserves glory, praise, and honor. Everything we have and everything we are comes from Him. Our talent, our intelligence, our moral knowledge all come from Him. As Jill Briscoe puts it, "We owe our next breath to His will, our finest hour to His enabling, our little triumphs to His grace. What have we that we have not received? One day we will cast these earthly crowns at His feet where they belong!"

CHRISTMAS PRESENT

2004-12-23T06:38:00.000-08:00
At this moment (I'm not committing to anything beyond that!), I believe I have all my Christmas preparations done...I think. The gifts are wrapped, the stockings stuffed, the cards are sent. I may have forgotten something or something may come up at the last minute, but I'm not going to worry about it. I have so much to be thankful for this Christmas season and every day. The holiday spirit was dimmed somewhat this year with the tragic death of a friend earlier this month in a horrible mill accident. He was 41 and left behind a wife and three young children. Their loss is ever present in my mind as I go about the holiday preparations, parties, concerts, and worship services with my family intact. I can't imagine the pain this young wife and mother must be feeling as she tries to guide her grieving children through this time. I want to do something to ease their difficulty -- I've written our condolences, made offers of help in any way needed, and sent money to help with the financial burden. These may be appreciated but, to me, they seem so inadequate. I can't heal their wounds, I can't give them hope for tomorrow, or peace for today. But God can and so I intercede for them in prayer; asking that He would comfort them, hold them, bring His people alongside to walk with them through this valley. I pray that He would give them His peace, which is beyond our understanding. I believe that is what the heavenly host were speaking of when they praised God above the fields of Bethlehem, saying: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!"

CHRISTMAS PAST

2004-12-22T08:06:00.000-08:00
In the midst of the present last-minute Christmas preparations, I find myself reflecting back on the Christmas of my childhood. I recall the most special gifts being the ones crafted by my parents' own hands: knitted socks, sweaters, Barbie clothes, and, yes, the striped skirt with matching vest. Warm slippers my father made for my sisters and me by cutting up the lining of a shearling coat and sewing them with his awl. A wonderful red barn with a lift-off loft he made for our youngest sister, Nancy, was envied by both Tara and me. But Nancy coveted shelf space on the bookshelf he made for us.

Without a doubt the most memorable Christmas for me is the year Dad decided for us that we would not receive gifts, but instead, give gifts to the Baby Jesus. That idea didn't immediately appeal to us kids (and it horrified our grandparents!) but as Dad talked about the real meaning of Christmas and focused our thoughts on the blessing received through giving, we girls became enthusiastically supportive of the whole idea. We made some of our nicest Christmas gifts for our grandparents that year; coasters made of maple slices with the bark on, woodburned, and polyurethaned. We gave some of our favorite toys to children in town who didn't have as much. Dad gave us each a little spiral notebook in which we were to record our gifts to Jesus, such as: "Today I did not fight with my sister." "Today I did my chores without being told." "Tara made me really mad today but I did not say anything mean to her." Dad and I sewed life-size figures of Joseph and Mary out of burlap feed sacks and dressed them in bathrobes and towel headdresses. We made candle sconces out of coffee cans and Dad nailed them to the walls inside our log goathouse. We put hay in the feed trough and laid a swaddled baby doll there. On Christmas Eve, after we went caroling at the homes of shut-ins and old folks, we gathered in the goathouse, lit by our candle sconces, surrounded by goats, chickens, a dog, and probably a cat or two. There we knelt, one by one, and presented our gifts to the Baby Jesus, reading from our little notebooks. And, you know, in my young heart, I was sure I saw that Baby smile. The warm glow in that little stable on that cold, starry night has stayed with me for more than thirty years.

BLOG? WHAT BLOG?

2004-12-21T13:47:00.000-08:00
Alright already. I have been getting enough feedback from people to bring me to the conclusion that I am supposed to be blogging. I have all the usual excuses for being absent from the wonderful world of blog -- too busy, writer's block, not enough time, nothing to say, too many other things to do, at a loss for words, and, last but not least, fear of redundancy.

It's not much but it's a start!

WITH THANKSGIVING

2004-11-25T07:28:00.000-08:00
I love pie. Not pi(r)squared so much, but definitely pie(r)round; as in pecan, apple, raspberry...not pumpkin so much. I enjoy making pies as well as eating them. This frosty Thanksgiving morning, I am snug in my warm kitchen with a golden pecan pie cooling on my counter and two cinnamony-sweet apple pies bubbling in the oven for this afternoon's feast. (Mmmm...mashed potatoes and gravy)

I've been making quite a few pies lately. Baked an apple pie to take to a friend, and co-worker of Mark's, who fell off his roof last month, shattering his hip. Made an apple pie for my 86 year old granny, who can't make her own pies anymore because her arthritic hands "don't work so good anymore". Made an apple pie for my family because they looked longingly at the previous two as they exited the house. Baked a pecan pie and an apple pie for our church's Thanksgiving Praise and Pie Social. Now the three pies for Thanksgiving dinner.

I see how God has blessed me to be able to bless others with my pies. Just one of so many blessings to be able to offer Him thanks for today. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

GRILLIN' AND CHILLIN'

2004-11-19T06:44:00.000-08:00
Last night's supper was delightful. In the afternoon I built a fire in our firepit, which gave me an opportunity to burn up a lot of the chewed up sticks Cass (our 9 month old purebred pain-in-the-butt) drags into the yard. I enjoyed the balmy fall afternoon, tending the fire, and doing a little raking. When the fire had burned down to a good base of coals I put chicken breasts with a bottle of barbeque sauce and a can of Coke together in my big cast iron dutch oven, which I then put on the fire. I sliced red potatoes and onions, wrapped them with some butter in tinfoil and put them on a rack over the fire. While supper cooked I watched the sun go down and the moon come up. It was a beautiful night. With the sun's departure, it turned chilly so the fire provided warmth and comfort.

Taylie and Tessa had surprised me with a raspberry Jello salad they'd made earlier while I was gone and it complemented the meal wonderfully. We dished up our plates by the fire and, though the menfolk fled indoors claiming it was too cold out, the girls and I ate by firelight and savored the fine cuisine and superb ambience of the setting. It doesn't get any better.

HELP! I NEED SOMEBODY!

2004-11-17T07:43:00.000-08:00
I like to help others who are in need. It gives me a good feeling to know I've eased someone's burden and I am fulfilling the mandate set forth in Galations 6:2 where the Apostle Paul tells us, "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ". I may not always know what the need is but, if I am made aware, I am glad to be able to help in some way.

Some women have built-in radar for others in need and show up with just what you need, right when you need it. My friend, Cheri, is one of these women. God has gifted her with a helping spirit and the discernment to go with it. I am one of many who has been blessed by her help over the years.

The thing we need to remember is this verse in Galations implies a giving and receiving of help. For some of us -- me included, it is easier, or more comfortable, to give than to receive. If pride, embarrassment, or fear of looking like a failure keep us from asking for help we deprive others of the blessing that comes from helping. It is God's plan for others to bear my burdens with me and vice versa. We need to accept help as willingly as we offer it.

I am being blessed right now by being able to help Cheri go through the immense amount of belongings, left by her mother-in-law's passing away, and prepare for an estate sale. I am glad that Cheri has given me this opportunity to come alongside her and help bear her burden. Thank you, Cheri.

THE TOMB OF THE UNKNOWNS

2004-11-15T08:45:00.000-08:00
The recent Veterans' Day observance brought to my email inbox an item of interest to me about the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, which led me to do further research of it on the Internet. I have never been to Washington, DC, and had the opportunity to visit this memorial myself and only knew what I learned about it in grade school history class. Which, apparently, wasn't much. Like most people, I knew the Tomb was located in Arlington National Cemetery and was guarded by a soldier. I knew the inscription on the white marble sarcophagus reads "HERE RESTS IN HONORED GLORY AN AMERICAN SOLDIER KNOWN BUT TO GOD". Some things I may have known and forgotten are that on March 3, 1921, Congress approved a resolution providing for the burial in Arlington National Cemetery on Armistice day 1921 of an unknown and unidentified soldier of World War I. On August 3, 1956, President Eisenhower signed a bill to select and pay tribute to the unknowns of World War II and Korea. The interment of these soldiers took place on May 30, 1958. President Reagan presided over the interment of the unknown soldier of Viet Nam on May 30, 1984. For some reason, unknown to me, the remains of this soldier were exhumed on May 14, 1998, and identified by means of DNA testing as those of Air Force 1st Lt. Michael J. Blassie. It was decided that the grave will remain empty. The crypts of the unknowns from WW II, Korea, and Viet Nam lie west of the main Tomb and are marked with white marble slabs flush with the plaza.

Even more interesting to me was what I learned about the soldiers who guard the Tomb. There is a Society of the Honor Guard of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and their motto is "Soldiers never die until they are forgotten. Tomb Guards never forget." Guards must commit two years of their life to guard the Tomb and live in a barracks under the Tomb. They cannot drink alcohol on or off duty for the rest of their lives. They cannot swear in public nor disgrace the uniform or the Tomb in any way. After two years, the guard is given a wreath pin that is worn on their lapel signifying that they served as a guard of the Tomb. The guard must obey these rules for the rest of their lives or give up the wreath pin. The first six months of duty a guard cannot talk to anyone nor watch TV. All off-duty time is spent studying the 175 notable people laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery. He must memorize who they are and where they are interred.

A guard spends five hours a day getting his uniforms ready for duty. There are no wrinkles, folds, or lint on the uniform. The shoes have extra thick soles to protect their feet from the heat and cold. There are metal heel plates on them that make the loud click as they come to a halt. His gloves are moistened to prevent him losing his grip on the rifle. He carries the rifle on the shoulder away from the Tomb. After he marches 21 steps across the path in front of the Tomb, he executes an about face and moves the rifle to the outside shoulder. There he hesitates for 21 seconds before beginning his return walk. 21 steps and 21 seconds allude to the twenty-one gun salute. The guards are changed every thirty minutes, twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year.

In 2003, as Hurricane Isabelle was approaching Washington, DC, the soldiers assigned the duty of guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier were given permission to suspend the assignment because of the dangers from the hurricane. They respectfully declined the offer. Soaked to the skin, marching in the pelting rain of a tropical storm, they said that guarding the Tomb was not just an assignment; it was the highest honor that can be afforded to a serviceperson. The Tomb of the Unknowns has been patrolled continuously, 24/7, since 1930.

THANKS, DAD

2004-11-11T14:18:00.000-08:00
Today is Veterans' Day and my thoughts turn to the many men I've known who have served, or are currently serving, our country in the Armed Services. Probably foremost in my mind is my dad who fought in the Korean War as a U.S. Marine. He served two tours of duty there, one 13 months and one seven months, with Reconnaissance Co., 1st Marine Division, Headquarters Battalion, as a scout; often the pointman. I cannot begin to imagine what kind of impact that kind of duty can have on one's psyche, particularly one so young. He was the age my son, Ramsey, is now -- eighteen. When Dad was discharged from the Marines after four years, twenty months of that spent in combat, he voluntarily checked himself into a Veterans' mental hospital in Detroit because he knew he was messed up. Diagnosed with "battle fatigue", today called "post traumatic stress disorder", he struggled to bring his mind, trained to fight and kill, back to civilian life. Add to that the fact that Korea was an "unpopular" war back home, not even being officially called a war, but a "police action", for a long time. Unlike Viet Nam veterans who came home and protested their treatment by their countrymen, Korean vets slunk quietly off to lick their wounds.

Dad stopped by yesterday to drop off some papers for me and I wished him "happy birthday" -- not his, which is April 2nd, but that of the United States Marine Corps on November 10th. He was pleased I remember this day is significant to him. Today I called him for Veterans' Day and thanked him for his service. As we talked and I asked him questions about his time in Korea, he summed it up, "War is war; it doesn't matter if you're there for a day or a year, it changes you forever." Well spoken, Dad.

KNIT TWO, PURL TWO

2004-11-09T08:18:00.000-08:00
Knitting really is enjoying a resurgence in popularity these days. Seems like everyone is doing it, from movie stars to high school home ec. classes. I even heard of an all boys knitting club in one school and they were the big, beefy jock types -- knitting is suddenly "cool".

I grew up with a mother who was an accomplished knitter. She knit socks and mittens, hats and sweaters, baby clothes and Barbie clothes. One Christmas my sister, Tara, and I received knit striped skirts with matching vests --Yikes! I think we were thrilled with them back then.

I remember Mom teaching me to knit when I was around eight or nine but I lost interest fairly quickly. I crocheted for a while in my teens and early twenties; even have one fourth of an afghan to prove it. I took up knitting again around the age of thirty with the birth my second child, daughter Taylie. And now she is knitting with me, as well as her younger sister, Tessa. It pleases me that both girls are doing very well and it looks like they've acquired a life-long skill. Tess knits while standing or walking around, which is a new one to me as I see knitting as an opportunity to put my feet up. Taylie has joined with me and a few other women in knitting preemie hats for babies in the neonatal intensive care unit at Rush Memorial Hospital in Chicago where friend Mindy is a nurse.

It's gratifying to knit with a purpose beyond just creating pleasing items; there is a need for these baby hats. As we knit, the words of Psalm 139:13-14 come to mind: "For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well." The babies we are knitting hats for are struggling with illness, deformity, effects of alcohol and substance abuse by their mother, handicap, underdeveloped organs, and fighting for their very lives. Not all make it. But God knows each one...their frame was not hidden from Him when they were made in the secret place; when they were woven together His eyes saw their unformed bodies, and all the days ordained for them were written in His Book before one of them came to be. (Ps.139) The Hand of the Master Knitter is upon each one of those precious little ones and I pray for the tiny little heads our hats will cover. I pray that the families of those babies, and all who come in contact with them, would be drawn to the Father by His grace, mercy, and healing.

FIRST STEPS

2004-11-08T07:11:00.000-08:00
"Direct my steps by Your Word, and let no iniquity have dominion over me." Psalm 119:133

I am constantly trying to get myself and my life organized but I've never been able to achieve this desired state in all areas simultaneously. I would like have peace and order around me. So I focus on organizing my home, cleaning, decluttering. Of course, about the time my bedroom is beginning to shape up and no longer looking like a cross between a thrift shop and a breeding ground for dust bunnies, the basement has taken on the foreboding air of the nether regions. I set out to clean up and organize closets one at a time -- before I get finished with the last, the first is again vomiting its contents each time someone is brave enough to open it. We have too much stuff. So I go on a flinging spree, taking bags of our excess to the Thrift Shop, putting some things out by the road with a "FREE" sign affixed (it's amazing how fast stuff disappears this way!). At times I expend so much energy trying to order my home that I don't have anything left for other more important areas in my life.

I notice I am not the only person striving and stuggling in this area, either. People all around me say the same things about not having enough time for all they want and need to do; not having enough space for all their "stuff". Books upon books about organizing, decluttering, and simplifying our lives have been published. Magazines with titles like Real Simple clog our magazine racks. (Has anyone written Simplifying for Simpletons yet?) Websites abound addressing the same. Apparently, none of these have provided the ultimate solution to the chaos and clutter that seems to rule our lives these days.

God wrote a book that does provide us with a blueprint for ordering our lives because He desires this for us because He is a god of order and design, not chaos and confusion. This morning the Lord spoke to me during my quiet time through this simple verse in Psalm 119 -- "Direct my steps by Your Word, and let no iniquity have dominion over me." This speaks of ordering our steps according to God's Word to us. When the Bible is foundational in our lives, it guides how we think and act, it sets our priorities in all areas. Ordering my life by applying God's Word makes things go more smoothly, not just in my home but in my relationships, our homeschooling, our finances.

I realize ordering my life is another one of those ongoing, life-long processes that will never be fully completed until God calls me home. I need to ask Him to show me areas in my life that need change and to guide me in making those changes. And may the decisions I make bring glory and honor to Him.

BLESSINGS ALL MINE...

2004-11-06T13:43:00.000-08:00
Another beautiful fall afternoon. Not the glorious golden of a few weeks ago -- all the leaves have left their summer perches and drifted to their winter beds. I spent a couple days raking our yard a week or so ago, as I figured all the leaves that were going to come down were down. No sooner did I finish that job than a tremendous wind kicked up and down came all the tenacious oak leaves that hang on for dear life, sometimes even all winter. Now it doesn't look like I did a thing out there. Oh, well...that's what spring raking is for.

I am torn between being outdoors today and tending to some tasks in the house. I'm big on compromise -- I have a good start on cleaning and re-arranging some in my bedroom, I've set two loaves of bread to rise in their pans, chicken breasts are simmering for tonight's dinner, and three loads of laundry are done all the way to being folded and put away. When the bread comes out of the oven I am going to take to the woods with my shotgun and dog and see if I can get the jump on a wiley grouse.

Mark ground up a bunch of venison burger this morning and now is out hunting this afternoon. Ramsey is in Rhinelander drilling with his National Guard unit, Taylie worked until 1:00 at the Tackle Box and now is finishing up some schoolwork so she can get back to her knitting. Tessa and Wylie are matching socks and then will escape outdoors for the last of the afternoon.

All day today I have had such an awareness of how God has blessed me. There was a time in my life when I despaired of ever being able to conceive a child...now I have four! The 9th verse of the 113th Psalm, a very special passage for me, comes to mind: "He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children. Praise the Lord." Amen

...NOT!

2004-11-05T21:00:00.000-08:00
Cheri informed me that I have become a "slacker" where blogging is concerned. Somehow, that information gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling -- it's nice to be missed! And she's right, I have not blogged, but once, since retrieving our computer from the PC doc. Our computer resides in our basement and when I whined to Cheri that "it's chilly down there and my arthritis has flared up in my neck" she firmly encouraged me to put on wool socks, heat up my rice-bag, bring along a cup of tea, and light a couple candles. So, now that I've set the scene: me in wool socks with my rice-bag draped over my neck, sipping vinegar & honey tea, hunched over the keyboard; let me just say that I am suffering from a bad case of writer's block and call it quits for today. I'll try again tomorrow!

I'M BAAAAACK!

2004-10-31T21:28:00.000-08:00
OK, so "a few days" turned into a week and a half! I've not blogged these past days as I was out of town for 3, didn't retrieve the computer from the computer doc for a couple more after that, and then had a very busy and full week of outdoor fall chores, indoor cleaning, baking and cooking. Just was too busy right away in the mornings and too exhausted in the evenings to even attempt blogging.

Our family is finally all back together in the nest, as Mark and Ramsey were gone for a week duck hunting in North Dakota. They left the day I was returning from the Women of Faith conference in St. Paul. God's mercy and grace abounded while we were apart -- He took care of us and we all returned home safely. The guys had a blast (literally and figuratively) on their hunting trip and came home with tales of the thousands of ducks and geese abounding in the area they were hunting. I came home lifted by the message at the conference of "Irrepressible Hope". I will write more about that in coming blogs but let it suffice for now to say that when our hope is placed in God it is irrepressible.

WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES...

2004-10-20T06:04:00.000-07:00
This will be my last blog for a few days, as my computer seems to have been affected by Spyware or virus or some such thing. I am going to take it in to our internet provider/computer doc today to be cleaned up. I imagine it will be a couple/few days before it is ready to be picked up. But this is good timing as I am going out of town Friday morning with a group of women from church to attend the Women of Faith conference in St. Paul, MN. I will get back some time on Sunday afternoon. I have gone to this conference a couple times before and it is really what I need right now. Great speakers, music and worship with thousands of Christian women in a stadium...long lines for the restrooms...quality time with my sisters in Christ while driving and staying at the hotel...silliness until the middle of the night. I will come back simultaneously refreshed and exhausted...and with plenty to blog about! Tune in next week...

THIS OLD TENT

2004-10-19T07:52:00.000-07:00
Saturday, our family attended the Barry McGuire concert held in a nearby town as a fund-raiser for a Christian school that just opened. Some of you may remember Barry in the 1960s as the lead singer for the New Christy Minstrels, as the lead male role in Broadway's original production of "Hair" and his number one hit "The Eve of Destruction". After increasing frustration and searching for the truth, Barry's life took a new turn when he met Jesus Christ in the early 70s and he began a career in Christian music and mission work, which he continues today.

Barry was a profound influence in my Christian walk when in 1975, as a 15 year old, I was given the album "To The Bride" which Barry recorded that year with two Christian groups of artists, The Second Chapter of Acts and A Band Called David. The Holy Spirit used the words of Barry's stories and songs on that album teach me and draw me closer to the Father. After almost 30 years, I was still able to sing those songs along with Barry at the concert Saturday night.

How cool it was to be able to share with my children this man and his ministry that had been so foundational in my life as a young believer! Barry has such an open and engaging way of presenting the Word of God; I could see my kids were impacted just as I had been. With laughter, honesty, music and humility, Barry McGuire tells his story, the story of how the Saviour reached him in the midst of a life of sin and death; and washed him clean by the blood of the Lamb.

I loved how he explained to the audience of moms, dads, grandparents, big kids, little kids and babies, that our bodies are just a temporary home for our spirits...like a tent. Barry said, "When you look in the mirror, what do you see? The front end of your tent!" Someday, when Jesus calls us home, we'll leave this earthly tent that sags and leaks and flaps in the wind; and be clothed with our heavenly dwelling...a perfect, glorious spiritual body! (2 Cor. 5:1-5) So until then, here I am in this old tent -- patching it up, sweeping it out and re-staking the ropes to hold it against the wind. But the really cool part is God's Spirit is camping with me!

WHAT DID I COME DOWN HERE FOR?

2004-10-18T09:08:00.000-07:00
"For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace." 1Cor. 14:33

I hate when I go all the way downstairs and have no idea why I am there. Surely I went down there to do something or fetch something, but I can't remember what it was. I have to go back upstairs and retrace my steps through the house until it dawns on me what my errand was. Even though I can benefit from the exercise, I get frustrated with my confusion; I have a lot to get done in a day and this is not an efficient use of my time.

I have a lot on my mind...too much, it seems. I can't remember things, I am always scrambling at the last minute, my thinking process becomes murky and I don't always make the best decisions. When confusion reigns, peace suffers. The above verse tells me that this is not God's will for us. I have a pretty good idea who the author of disorder and strife is. I have heard it said that Satan does not always have to tempt us to cause us to sin; he can just keep us too busy. When I am stressed, overwhelmed and tired, it is much easier for me to dishonor God with my attitudes, words and actions.

My friend, Cheri, in dealing with her mother-in-law's estate, is overwhelmed with "stuff". Always one to strive for a simpler lifestyle, Cheri is really committed to downsizing and is encouraging the rest of us to do likewise. Less material clutter to deal with will certainly lessen disorder in our lives. I believe downsizing our schedule, calendar and commitments is also essential for peace. It is so easy to get over involved because there are so many good things to be involved in. I need to prayerfully discern which activities are God's will for me and my family, guarding against overload.

Making time to clear our minds is another guard against overload. I find when my day is crowded with responsibilities and activities my devotional time is the first thing to suffer. Though it is the desire of my heart to make quiet time with God a priority, the clammer of the day's schedule makes it a struggle. I want to honor God by having an orderly home. I need to daily pray for wisdom and discernment regarding what things are priorities and what things I need to eliminate. Taking a break to relax and refresh my mind in the midst of the busyness of my day is a priority. Having a clear, calm mind will help me bring order to chaos.

CHILD TRAINING 101

2004-10-15T07:07:00.000-07:00
I should probably title this post Parent Training 101 since that is where child training actually starts...and I've yet to figure out when the course ends! I have been a parent for 18 years, 6 months and 8 days and I am still being trained and re-trained. So often, I feel like I am failing the class -- I know the material but choke on the test. Take the subject of consistency, for example. I know what I should do but have such a hard time following through. In my quiet time yesterday morning I was reading Proverbs 19. Verse 18 admonishes us: "Discipline your son, for in that there is hope; do not be a willing party to his death." (NIV) That really caught my attention and I spent some time looking at this verse in other translations and its cross references.

The second part of that verse, "...do not be a willing party to his death" sure makes an impact. Proverbs 13:24 tells us "He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is careful to discipline him." Proverbs 22:15 says, "Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline will drive it far from him." The "rod" may be literally an instrument used to administer a spanking or it may be a figure of speech for discipline of any kind. These verses tell me that discipline is rooted in love and parents are urged to apply the rod of punishment so that the child will not follow a path of destruction. If we neglect this responsibility we are, in effect, knowingly looking the other way while our child takes the wrong fork in the road which puts him in harm's way.

It is not easy to discipline our children -- I do not enjoy it. It is exhausting and draining. I give in too often to their whining and crying because it takes too much effort to be "the bad guy". When this happens, their behavior and character suffers for it. That same verse, Proverbs 19:18, in the King James Version puts it this way: "Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying." When I stick to what I know is best for them, not taking the "easy" way out for me, the results are worth it.

Another subject in this Parent Training 101 course is my own track record of obedience. I need to examine how well I have obeyed the authorities in my life. Was I obedient to my parents as a child? Do I submit to my husband? Does God direct my paths? Do I confess my failings in these areas? The example of respect and obedience that I set for my children is observed by them all day long. Yikes. This is a huge responsibility and I stumble more often than not. But the best thing about stumbling is landing on my knees, which is the best place to be when I'm training my children.

BEDTIME BLESSINGS

2004-10-12T07:32:00.000-07:00
Early this morning I was made sharply aware of a blessing I'd overlooked. We were awakened at 4:15 AM by the ringing of the phone which, at that hour, is seldom a harbinger of good news. It was our friend, Mike, on his way to work the early shift, calling to tell us that the sporting goods store, The Tackle Box where Ramsey is employed, had been smashed into with a car. Mike had already called the Sheriff's Department but didn't know how to get ahold of Karen, the owner, who was out of town at a buying show. Mark and Ramsey hurried to the store where they were able to give the responding officers information regarding the owner and whether it looked like anything was stolen (nothing was). There were 50 feet of skid marks and a lot of damage to the front of the building. Upon seeing a young girl still on the scene in her smashed-up car, Ramsey felt pretty sure the actual culprit was her boyfriend. At first, the girl tried to cover for him but, after some pressure from the police, she took them to where he boyfriend was and he confessed and was apprehended. Ramsey had a phone number to reach Karen; Mark called to tell her what had happened, that he and Ramsey were going to do what was needed to clean up the mess, board up the windows and get the store in working order.

At home the other kids and I prayed for Karen, asking that God would comfort her and protect her as she travels back home. We are thankful that it was not a robbery situation in which, if she had been home, she might possibly have been harmed.

It was as we prayed for the young people involved in the incident that I was made keenly aware of the overlooked blessing in our life. While this boy and girl were out doing whatever they were doing that led them to driving a car into the front of the store, my boys and girls were piled on our queen-size bed which their mother and father had retired to. They do this quite often; coming in to talk, laugh, lay by us and wrestle each other. Mark finds this rather annoying at times but, as I thought about my 18 year old son stretched across the end of our bed with his head pillowed on my hip (and his smelly socks in his 10 year old brother's face - one source of the wrestling), my 14 year old daughter curled up between her brothers and her 11 year old sister wedged between Mark and me, I wondered how many parents were blessed to be crammed into a not-big-enough bed with all their children (not just the little ones) wanting to share this time at the end of the day. When Mark can't take the ruckus and racket anymore we pray with them, send them off to their own beds and stretch out our cramped legs into the warm spots left from where they had lain. Something, that to some might seem strange or insignificant, to me is a gift of God's grace -- when darkness settles down over the day and the question is asked, "Parents, do you know where your children are?" I can answer, "Yes, I do -- they're on my bed!"

BIRTHDAY SONG

2004-10-09T13:19:00.000-07:00
I haven't blogged the last few days because I really wasn't home long enough to do so. Wednesday was busy with appointments, errands and Family Dinner Nite at church. But Thursday and Friday were a special birthday gift from Mark. He took two days off work to do whatever I wanted to do...he couldn't have given me a better present. We headed up into the U.P. without any real destination in mind, just a general direction and spontaneity.

Driving west on U.S. 2, as far as the eye can see, the hills of the iron and copper range are ablaze with an intensity of color that takes your breath away. We got as far as Bessemer and decided to head north 15 miles to Black River Harbor on Lake Superior. Once there, we hiked up to Rainbow Falls through beautiful hemlock and yellow birch forest, sat on the bluff above the rushing gorge and watched a fly-fisherman further downstream. We followed a narrow foot path on a spine of a ridge down to the shore of Superior, where the clear water stroked the sand and stones. As I sat there, I reflected on 44 years...where did they go? I don't feel 44 in my head (my knees and hips are another story). God has been so good to me; brought me through so much and blessed me in spite of my being prone to wander. I sang praise to Him there on the shore of Gitchee Gumee, by the Shining Big Sea Water...

I will praise You, O Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all Your wonders. I will be glad and rejoice in You; I will sing praise to Your Name, O Most High. (Ps. 9:1-2)

When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place, what is man that You are mindful of him, the son of man that You care for him...O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is Your Name in all the earth! (Ps. 9:3-4,9)

HOLD YOUR TONGUE

2004-10-05T07:52:00.000-07:00
I am reading the Book of James in the New Testament during my
devotional time. I have read this book many times over the years and it never fails to speak directly to me. For being one of the shorter books in the New Testament, it sure packs a punch. One area in my life that I'm always getting "punched" about is controling my tongue. There are many passages of Scripture that speak about this which tells me that it is a serious matter. In the first chapter of James, verses 19-20 say, "My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires." And verse 26 of the same chapter says, "If anyone considers himself religious and yet does not keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless." James continues to address this issue in Chapter 3, comparing the effect of the tongue with the effect of a bit in a horse's mouth, the effect of a rudder on a ship and the effect of a small spark in a great forest: "Likewise the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell." Whew! The evil that comes out of our mouths is lying, boasting, slander, gossip, lewd and foul talk, cursing, mean and spiteful words, and deceitful, misleading talk. We all know what kind of an effect these things can have on a person. James goes on in verse 9 to say, "With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God's likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be."

Ephesians 4:29 tells us: "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." This is very convicting to me...and a very tall order, one I'm not very successful at achieving. I need help. Where do I begin? James, again, comes through in Chapter 1, verse 5: "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." I ask God to help me and He directs me in His Word to examine myself (2 Cor. 13:5) and to "take every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Cor. 10:5). "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting" (Ps. 139:23-24). Scary prayer, but a necessary one..."For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks" (Mt. 12:34). I don't know about you, but I don't get the warm fuzzies when I examine the contents of my heart. Mercifully for me, when I ask God to examine my heart and reveal any offensiveness, He doesn't dump the whole load on me at once. He gently shows me one or two things at a time that I need to 'fess up to and I ask Him to forgive me and then help me to overcome that sin through the power of His Holy Spirit in me. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9).

Today my prayer is the lyrics of the worship song we sang in church on Sunday:
Purify my heart; touch me with Your cleansing fire. Take me to the Cross, Your holiness is my desire. Breathe Your life in me; kindle a love that flows from Your throne. O purify my heart...purify my heart.
Purify my heart, Lord...and wash my mouth out in the process. Thank You, Father.

OCTOBER

2004-10-04T06:39:00.000-07:00
October is a fickle month. Or maybe I should say "moody" ... bright, sunny and warm one day; dark, cloudy and cold the next. Sometimes it's downright schizophrenic...all four seasons in one day! This morning we woke to a covering of snow on the leaves and grass with the sun pushing away the clouds. Now, a couple hours later, the clouds are winning and have completely blanketed the sky in gray. It'll probably go back and forth like this all day.

The house is a little chilly; I've yet to fire up the furnace for the fall season, but today just might be the day. Have to see who wins the shoving match in the sky -- Clouds, it's furnace; sun, it's bake something in the oven and put on wool sox.

SIMPLE MINDED

2004-10-02T08:45:00.000-07:00
That's me! Simple minded...sometimes a downright simpleton. Well, not really; but there are times I can be pretty dense! Spiritually speaking though, I am content to be simple minded. I have no problem accepting the Bible as the infallible Word of God, given to chosen men to be recorded as they were inspired by the Holy Spirit. Therefore, I do not feel the need to come up with "logical" explanations for where Cain got his wife and how people could have lived for more than 900 years (in light of the fact that when God created man He originally intended him to live forever, 900 years is a drop in the bucket!). Whether or not the Egyptian plagues were an intensification of natural events taking place in less than a year and coming at God's bidding and timing, they still were miraculous and glorified the one true God to a polytheistic culture. Pharoah, the Egyptians and all Israel saw the power of God. The Creation taking place in seven days by God's spoken Word, the Ark and the Flood, the parting of the Red Sea, Jonah surviving three days in the belly of a whale, David's defeat of Goliath; none of these are stumbling blocks for me. They are all examples of when a person answers God's call to trust Him and obey, God is faithful to respond in awesome and mighty ways.

It amazes me how readily the world accepts the works of ancient authors, like Homer, Sophocles, Aristotle, Plato and Caesar, etc., as authentic to the original manuscripts. How many manuscript copies of ancient works are available for study today? The 643 manuscript copies that exist of Homer's Iliad is the most for any ancient work. There are only about 10 manuscripts found of Caesar's War Commentaries, seven for Plato's Tetralogies, 20 for Livy's History of Rome. How about the New Testament? There are 5,309 known manuscripts in the original Greek language. There are also more than 19,000 ancient New Testament manuscripts in other languages such as Latin, Syriac and Armenian. For a total of 24,633. The time interval between the date of the original writing and the earliest known manuscript copies of the New Testament compared to other ancient works is astonishing. Caesar's War Commentaries was written about 50 B.C., but no copies are available for study which were written before the 9th century -- a gap of over 900 years. Most of the Greek writings have even greater gaps (1000-1500 years), the Latin writings somewhat less. The shortest span of any ancient work is that of Virgil, about 300 years between the original writing and the oldest known copy. The New Testament was written over a period of about 50 years, beginning around A.D. 47. Using the year A.D. 100 as the latest possible date for their completion, the John Rylands papyrus, a fragment containing a few verses of the Gospel of John, dates about A.D. 125 -- only some 35 years after the original writing by the apostle. The Bodmer and Chester Beatty papyri, a find consisting of a majority of the New Testament, dates from about A.D. 175-250. Major copies within 100-150 years of the originals. Bible scholar, Frederic Kenyon, in his commentary The Bible and Modern Scholarship, writes: "No other ancient book has anything like such early and plentiful testimony to its text, and no unbiased scholar would deny that the text that has come down to us is substantially sound."

All of this information just reaffirms my belief in the Bible as the literal Word of God but I am thankful I did not need to know all this before I believed. Trying to seek God through one's intellect just does not work. It's a matter of the heart. Jesus says, "I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the Kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." (Mark 10:15) The point He's making by this comparison is the openness and receptivity of children. The Kingdom of God must be received as a gift; it cannot be achieved by any of our efforts.

"For the message of the Cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written: 'I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate.' Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know Him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe. Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength." (1 Corinthians 1:18-25)

So call me a simple-minded fool.

2004-09-30T19:03:00.000-07:00
I am very blessed to have both of my grandmothers still living and a part of my life. Tomorrow my paternal grandmother will turn 98 years old. That just boggles my mind! To think of a lifetime that spans nearly 100 years...the people and events she has known; two World Wars, the Korean, Viet Nam, and Iraq wars, and conflicts in other places around the world like Panama, Somolia and Bosnia; eighteen presidential administrations; the advances and developments of science and medicine; a career as a school teacher; changes in our culture, society and values; and the ebb and flow of life. The losses she's suffered of friends and family; most heartbreaking, the death of a beloved daughter. She's obviously a fighter and a survivor, bouyed through life's ups and downs by her faith in God and her sense of humor. She still, after 98 years, delights in the change of seasons like it was the first time she experienced them. In spite of a loss of just about everything she had; from her loved ones, her home, her strength, her memory and her dignity, she says she's not ready to die. There are still things to be enjoyed, blessings to receive and things to be thankful for. She does wonder at times why she is still here; why God has not taken her home when all her friends and so many loved ones have been gone so long. Maybe it's because I am a slow learner and she has so much more to teach me.

HUNKER-DOWN MODE

2004-09-28T09:01:00.000-07:00
It's the time of year my mother and I go into what we refer to as "hunkering-down". As the nights grow colder and the days crisp with falling leaves, we start dreaming of soups and stews, cranberry-apple cobbler and freshly baked bread. We pour over new recipes and pull out the old standard "More With Less" cookbook published by the Mennonites. There are green beans to be dilled, beets to be pickled, zucchini to be grated, apples to be sauced or sliced and frozen for winter pies. After the heat and busyness of summer, we are ready to fire up our ovens and fill the house with the smells of home cooking and baking.

We resolve anew to prepare meals that are wholesome and inexpensive, using what we have on hand and not running to the grocery store every day. We plan menus and bulk baking or cooking days around what is on sale. I am challenged to limit my grocery bill to $100 a week, which isn't just for food items but also soaps, toiletries, paper products, OTC medicines, dog and cat food, kitty litter and hamster food. Told you I was challenged! But I am enjoying finding creative ways to feed my family and stretch my grocery dollars. I was given a head of cabbage the other day and a carton of pre-washed, sliced fresh mushrooms on another day, both food items my family turns their noses up at. But they were FREE and I wasn't going to let them go to waste.
The "boiled dinner" I made in my crock pot with the cabbage, potatoes, onions, carrots and a smoked pork shank was hearty and the delicious smell lured even the most leery family members. Mark and a couple of the kids even had seconds. With the mushrooms I made stroganoff with sliced venison tenderloin. I sauteed those mushrooms with garlic and onion, added a little beef broth and the meat, simmered a while, then stirred in a pint of sour cream. Served over dumpling noodles, it was a big hit and not one person even commented on the mushrooms! Just goes to show it's all in their heads.

The other day I bought 6 big, beautiful green peppers, three for a dollar, at the bulk food store and I made stuffed peppers for the first time yesterday. They were wonderful, and complemented nicely by the fresh zucchini bread I made at the same time I was preparing the peppers and also canning Dilly Beans. Talk about a challenge! I don't know why I do that to myself -- try a new recipe, can beans and bake all at the same time! I need to pace myself and, above all, not forget to thank the Lord from whom all these good things come. I need to remember to trust in His provision and not rely only on my own resourcefulness.

"Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life" 1Timothy 6:17-19

MEMORIALS

2004-09-24T16:56:00.000-07:00
This morning I attended the funeral of a dear lady I know from church. Edith was very sweet, gracious and encouraging. She always had a twinkle in her beautiful eyes and a smile playing about her lips. She was an example of godliness and grace by the manner in which she lived her life and and by the manner in which she went home to be with her Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. As I sat at the back of our church listening to her grandchildren eulogize her and talk about her legacy, I looked over to see my friends, Pat and Cheri, who are in the midst of grieving the loss of Pat's mother three days ago. I thought about things Cheri had shared with me about her mother-in-law and the legacy she left for her family.

It all caused me to consider what kind of legacy I will leave someday...what kind of legacy do I hope to leave? I have come to accept that I am a "work in progress" and will not be completed until that day when Jesus presents me to the Father. But in the meantime, I much to do to "get my house in order". Thankfully, I have top-notch help for this task because it is impossible for me to do it on my own.

RARE PLEASURES

2004-09-22T08:50:00.000-07:00
Yesterday turned out to be a day of rare pleasures all wrapped in the golden hues of autumn. I had an unexpected two hour break when I took my two younger children, Tessa and Wylie, to the local library for a homeschool science program; I had planned to run errands while the kids were there and thought the program would last an hour. It actually was a two-hour program so I left my car parked at the library and "walked errands" in town, enjoying the beautiful weather and stopping to visit with friends at various places.

Back home, my husband, Mark, arrived shortly after me and asked me to go bird hunting with him. We went and bought my small game license and headed into the woods. What a gift to be walking down old logging roads with Mark and our 7 month old yellow lab, Cass...orange and yellow leaves sifting down, the smell of the sun-warmed earth, the eagerness of the young dog as she began to realize her purpose. At one point, Mark and Cass ventured off the road to work the woods and try to flush a bird out to me. Suddenly, 40 yards ahead of me, a big 10-point buck soundlessly leaped out of the woods and crossed the road into the thick tangle of pines on the other side. I just stood and marveled at how quietly such a big animal could move through the woods.

Later, on another road, we surprised a grouse feeding and I shot it, evening the score with Mark and Ramsey, who both already had bagged a bird this season. Further on we flushed two more but they had the element of surprise this time and lived to tell the tale.

We came home to the smell of supper in the crockpot, the whole family around the table, and a game of cribbage before bed, in which I soundly beat my husband. Like I said, it was a day of rare pleasures...

INDIAN SUMMER

2004-09-21T10:02:00.000-07:00
We have been having two weeks of the most beautiful weather; each day more glorious than the last as the fall colors bloom against the backdrop of deep blue sky and dark pine green. Fall is my favorite season anyway, but when we get an Indian Summer like this one it is impossible to beat anywhere. The bugs are gone, the humidity is gone, the tourists are gone, the days are warm, the nights are crisp and cool.

Days like this make it difficult to get work done indoors -- the kids are doing their school work outside at the picnic table even as I write this. I have an overwhelming urge to take off into the big timber just to walk and soak up the sights, smells and sounds of this time of the year...

SEE YOU AT THE POLE

2004-09-15T09:43:00.000-07:00
No, that's not a quote from Admiral Robert Peary or Santa Claus...it's what the third Wednesday morning in September every year is: "See You At The Pole Day" ...flagpole, that is. This is the day that Christian students, faculty and community members gather at 7:00 AM around the flag pole at their local schools to pray for the students and staff of that school and our country's leaders. This goes on all over the United States and a lot of other places in the world.

It was no easy feat getting myself and my kids up and out the door by 6:45 this morning. And it was pouring rain, to boot. The attendance was disappointingly small, and whether the rain or that fact that the school administrator would not allow posters announcing the event to be put up contributed to that, I don't know. On hand was my friend, Dennise, who is a youth leader in our church and lives in another community 20 miles away, a husband and wife who are retired teachers from this school, a young mom who graduated from the school, and my kids and me. The current second grade teacher joined our prayer circle for a few moments and then scurried off to get to her classroom. No other faculty or students from this school showed up.

But God promises that where two or more are gathered in His Name, He is there also. He also promises that when two or more believers agree and pray according to His will He will hear and answer. I believe God keeps His promises and I felt His Presence there with us as the rain came down and our prayers lifted up. I believe we prayed according to His will as we asked for protection for students and staff, for believers in the school to be bold in sharing their faith, for nonbelievers to be drawn to Him and come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ, for His guiding hand to be with leaders of our government. I was very thankful and blessed to be able to stand there at the flagpole with my children and pray with a handful of other followers of Christ for this little school and community. And I am waiting expectantly for God's Spirit to move and bring revival there.

BACK TO THE FUTURE

2004-09-13T09:45:00.000-07:00
We are back from a great weekend away...fine weather, good food, rest and relaxation. Unfortunately, the walleye warriors didn't have any luck in the fishing tournament. They marked a lot of fish on their graph but getting them to bite was the trick. That's why it's called "fishing" and not "catching"!

Back home, it's called "catching up"...laundry, school, chores, fall cleaning, mail and phone calls. Wouldn't you know, it's a beautiful day outside so we are having a hard time staying on task indoors. Maybe I'll put off the cleaning a closet and go tackle the outside of the windows...

FREE-TO-BE-ME CAMPING

2004-09-08T10:30:00.000-07:00
We are getting ready for my favorite weekend. Every year husband, Mark, and son, Ramsey, fish the Lake Gogebic Walleye Tournament and our family camps in the Michigan State Park on the south shore of this big, beautiful, 15-mile long lake. It is my favorite time of the year to camp -- the bugs are gone, the fall colors are out, the campground is quiet since it is after Labor Day. Just a handful of retirees in their flashy motorhomes and us in our 1971 Holiday Rambler.

Mark and Ramsey spend their day battling wind and waves, wrassling down-riggers and 7'6" fishing rods. They come back to camp beat. I spend my day drinking coffee and reading in bed, taking walks with the kids, reading by the shore, doing crafts or playing games, reading in the shade or in the camper if it's rainy, feeding the ducks, or taking a nap. Sure, I fix a simple breakfast and lunch, put venison and vegetables in the crockpot for supper's stew and wash a few dishes, but I'm relaxing!

As enjoyable as extended-family and church-family activities are, I always feel a self-imposed strain. I feel like I'm being rude if I read, I feel like a slug if I sleep in past 7:00 and I feel like I need to be involved with the company I'm in. That's not relaxing for me.

So this is my time, once a year, to get away and unwind. No phone, no TV, no news. No one else's agenda or scheduled activities. When we pull out of the campground on Sunday afternoon, it's back to reality: homeschooling, housework, church activities and running the kids to their various lessons, jobs, youth groups and appointments. I need this time to be rested, refreshed and ready to tackle "the real world".

A GENTLE AND QUIET SPIRIT

2004-09-06T05:54:00.000-07:00
I have been looking for a gentle and quiet spirit ever since I found out about it. In the New Testament book of 1 Peter 3:3-4 it says, "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight." I don't believe this passage is saying it is wrong to style your hair or wear jewelry or nice clothes. But I do believe it is saying those things are not true beauty, they are only skin deep. It is what is in our hearts that makes us beautiful...or not.

I keep finding myself coming back to this verse over the years. A "gentle and quiet spirit" is hard to find and just when I think I've got it, it slips through my fingers again. Because it is "of great worth in God's sight", I want this quality very much, but it doesn't come naturally to me. My understanding of "gentle and quiet" is being calm and peaceful, not easily provoked or irritated. I respond to my circumstances and react to others, usually immediately in the heat of the moment. There have been a few times when I've kept my mouth shut but I didn't feel gentle and quiet on the inside. And it showed. So that's not a true gentle and quiet spirit.

I've come to the conclusion that this is not something I can create or produce on my own. I have the desire but not the ability to achieve the desired results. So where does that leave me? Right where I want to be -- in God's hands. I've had to give this desire to Him and ask that He would do the work in me of transforming my spirit. I trust that this is His good and perfect will for me.

SCHOOL DAZE

2004-09-05T10:10:00.000-07:00
It's that time of year again when I must pull my mind back from summer pursuits and get on the school track. Homeshool, that is. This is a process that always begins with questioning myself: Why am I doing this? Wouldn't it be easier to put the kids on the bus and let the school district my taxes support do the job? Wouldn't it be nice to be home alone all day?...The house would stay clean for several hours at a time! I could take classes at the local college or get a job and supplement the family income. Am I able to do this important job well enough? Am I just trying to prove a point here?

Good questions. The answer to the first and most pertinent question is: I have been called by God to teach my children at home. I knew this even before I became a mother. God has given all parents the responsibility of educating their children and there are different options for accomplishing this: public school, private school, tutoring and homeschool. I want my children to have an education that honors God as our Creator and Sustainer. This requires a Bible-based, Christ-centered curriculum which the public school, by the law of the land, cannot provide. So scratch that option. I cannot afford the tuition at a private school or the fee for a tutor. And the private, parochial schools in our area are either Catholic or Lutheran and our family is of neither of those faith traditions. That leaves homeschooling.

Most days I feel very blessed to be able to teach my children at home. I won't lie...there have been days when I've wanted to flag down the yellow bus and say, "Take them! I've made a huge mistake!" But overall, I enjoy having my kids home with me...I tell them that if they weren't so annoying they could be my best friends! : ) Homeschooling has become a lifestyle and it allows us to be flexible -- if something's not working we try something else.

Sure, I think about taking college classes or getting a job for extra income, but what would be the price I'd pay? I actually don't want those things badly enough to find out. My time will come; this is not the season.

Am I able to do this important job well enough? On my own...no. With Jesus Christ in me and beside me to follow and lean on...yes. Not in my own ability and wisdom but in His. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Ph. 4:13 It is only by His grace that Ramsey, our eldest child and first homeschool graduate, is testing at a 12th grade level in the High School Equivalancy Diploma program at the local college. I have so much to be thankful for!

Am I trying to prove a point? Yes: God's grace is sufficient for me and His mercies are new every morning. Oh, the things I am learning while I think I am teaching my children!